


Gwaine (Or: Good In Everyone)

by Jennistar



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, because Gwaine is awesome in every single way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-15 22:30:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 48,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennistar/pseuds/Jennistar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Contrary to popular opinion, Gwaine was actually quite used to rejection. Merlin did not reject him. What he did was worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meetings

Contrary to popular opinion, Gwaine was actually quite used to rejection. It was the law of averages, after all - he attempted to seduce so many people on a daily basis (women _and_ men, yes, why limit yourself to one sex when you can have both?) that there was bound to be some who were going to say no to him. Despite his stunning good looks. And gorgeous body. And hair that looked like it had been spun by fairies from sheets of fine copper. (Hey, it wasn’t boasting if it was true, was it?)  
His first attempt at chatting someone up had been rejected, actually. Her name was Clarissa, she was 7 and he was 5, and she already had golden hair down to her ankles. He had picked her a bunch of posies rather than collecting firewood for his mother and had presented them to her. She’d laughed in his face, took his flowers and stamped on them. The next day he saw her in the village giggling with Gareth, the local yob even at age 8. It was the first time he’d ever felt bitterness.  
But, he was Gwaine, and Gwaine never let setbacks get him down. He’d get nowhere if he did, what with the life that he led. So he was quite used to rejection, and very adept at handling it.  
Merlin did not reject him. What he did was worse.  
  
He met Merlin and Arthur in a tavern. This was not unusual, he met most people he knew in taverns, mostly because that was where he spent the majority of his time. But these two arrested his attention straight away. Mostly because they managed to start a bar brawl within moments of coming into the tavern, but also by the way the two of them constantly and quite unconsciously gravitated to each other. Gwaine was good at noticing body language, and this was undeniable. Merlin never strayed far from Arthur’s side. Arthur never let Merlin leave his sight of vision for more than a few seconds. And neither of them seemed to notice that they did this at all.  
This did not change, in all the years Gwaine knew them.  
He was also arrested by how Merlin looked. On the surface he was scruffy, and looked about 12, and had ridiculous ears, but there was something about him…  
Plus he had a smile that could topple kingdoms. When Merlin smiled at Gwaine like that, it made Gwaine want to do the most ludicrous thing he could think up. This also never changed.  
He was utterly unable to stop himself when he approached him, had a drink, smashed a marauding oaf in the face, flipped his hair Gwaine-style and said with all the charm he possessed, “What do they call you then?”  
  
He was unnerved when he woke up in Merlin’s bed. He was used to waking up in other people’s beds, that was all par for the course, but not when he hadn’t had sex with them first. He was even more unnerved when Merlin entered with food and his trouble-causing, I’m-just-too-cute-for-my-own-good smile and informed Gwaine that the person he’d taken a knife for just so happened to be Prince Arthur of Camelot. He’d have bolted right out of the bed and out of the kingdom if he’d been able to feel his leg. As it was, he ate the food and concentrated on charming Merlin. He leaned back, said, “When your chances look between slim and none…I guess I just kind of like the look of those odds,” and grinned rakishly, and Merlin, a little bemused but obligingly charmed, smiled back.  
“Besides,” continued Gwaine, dropping his arms and focusing on his food again. “I had to help Mary.”  
Merlin dithered a bit, then came and perched on the side of the bed, carefully staying away from Gwaine’s bad leg. “Mary?”  
“The owner of the tavern,” Gwaine said, “She’s brilliant, I’ve never met a more welcoming and fiesty woman. She gave me my board for free, you know. Fantastic woman, heart of gold.” He smiled genuinely - he’d been quite taken by Mary.  
Merlin’s expression warmed considerably - he’d clearly been less than impressed by Gwaine’s attack on nobles, but whatever Gwaine had said there had put him back in Merlin’s good books.  
Which was odd, because this time he’d been speaking from the heart and hadn’t even been trying to ingratiate himself.  
He finished his food, Merlin left, and he slept.  
  
Gaius woke Gwaine up, a bit later, by peeling the bandage carefully off his leg. “Sorry to wake you,” he said quietly.  
Gwaine frowned sleepily; from the look of things it was early evening. “Where’s Merlin?” he asked. His throat felt dry; he coughed.  
“Waiting on Prince Arthur,” Gaius said, passing Gwaine a jug of water to drink from without comment. “He is his manservant.”  
Gwaine drank thirstily. “That explains why he was visiting a dead-end tavern with his highness. Oh wait, no it doesn’t.”  
Gaius said nothing, but Gwaine sensed a wave of amusement coming off him. “Merlin is very kind,” Gwaine said, because it was the simple and obvious truth. “Very honourable.”  
“He is indeed,” Gaius replied.  
  
He slept for the rest of the day and night, but the next morning, when he’d awoken to the sound of Camelot going about it’s daily business, and had peeked out of Merlin’s window to take a look, he was filled with new vigour.  
He went on the pull. It didn’t last long. It turned out ladies from Camelot were harder to get into than the queen and her maidservant that time a few years ago, and that had been nigh-on impossible. Mind you, Gwaine had managed it, even if he did end up running out of that castle with no trousers and the queen’s husband right behind him.  
He went to the tavern to cheer himself up, and that was how Gwen - one of the rejecters - found him, drunk as a skunk, surrounded by new friends and being threatened by the tavern landlord. She brought in reinforcements. They came in the shape of Merlin.  
  
They spoke of their fathers. Gwaine wasn’t used to speaking of serious things when he was drunk, but Merlin seemed to possess an underlining seriousness in all that he did. Some people - Gwaine had met them before - had a deep melancholy within them, which they retained even when they were at their happiest. As if they knew some deep secret that others did not. Merlin had a quick smile but also a quick sadness about him.  
Perhaps this was why Gwaine kissed him - in an attempt to dispel this sadness. He had, after all, always been the most naturally cheerful of people. And so, somewhere after them talking about their fathers and Gwaine hitting his head on the bedroom wall, he leaned forward and kissed Merlin firmly and determinedly on the mouth.  
Merlin stiffened - Gwaine could feel it in his spine, where his hand was resting - but his lips were soft, and when Gwaine pulled away, Merlin followed him and kissed him back, suddenly fierce.  
After that it all got a bit heady; either he pulled or Merlin pushed, but Merlin ended up in his lap either way, he tugged off Merlin’s shirt, Merlin slid his hands under Gwaine’s and they were kissing furiously the entire time, mouths open and hot breath mingling.  
Gwaine pulled back again. “Someone’s eager.”  
Merlin blinked, a little disorientated, but before he could do something stupid like _apologise_ for this, another thought had hit Gwaine.  
“This isn’t…the first time?”  
Merlin laughed, face suddenly splitting into his brilliant smile. “No! There was - there was a boy in the village - _Gwaine!_ ”  
The protest was because Gwaine had snuck his hands under the waistband of Merlin’s trousers and was having a most enjoyable grope. Merlin gasped and dug his fingernails into Gwaine’s shoulders, and Gwaine grinned against his neck.  
“But it’s been a while?” he persisted.  
“Yes,” Merlin said, sounding a bit more breathless. “There was a - there was Lancelot, but he was a while ago - _keep doing that!_ ”  
Gwaine actually laughed out loud at this, and obeyed, and the next thing he knew he was lying down on the bed and Merlin was attempting to wrestle his trousers off while he was trying to do the same to him, and they were laughing so hard it was difficult to concentrate, and then Merlin tugged at Gwaine clumsily, wobbled, said “uh-oh!” and promptly fell off the bed, bringing Gwaine with him.  
They collapsed with a loud crash and in a heap of giggles, Gwaine on top of Merlin, their legs and er, _other_ parts, squashed together.  
“You are abysmally clumsy,” Gwaine told Merlin, noticing suddenly how blue his eyes were when viewed from above.  
“One of my many talents,” Merlin breathed, and then he shifted against Gwaine, and Gwaine let out a noise somewhere between a gasp and groan and grabbed Merlin’s hips so that he could push against him properly, and after that it really didn’t take them very long at all.  
It took them a while to get back from the floor onto the bed afterwards, but after Merlin had regained enough of his faculties to remember that lying on the floor was probably not good for Gwaine’s leg, they helped each other up and ended the night tucked under Merlin’s scratchy blanket and half lying on one another. Gwaine’s arm was slung around Merlin’s shoulder, his face half pressed into Merlin’s hair. For such a scrawny person, Merlin radiated heat. It was dark because they had blown out the candles and moonlight was streaming through Merlin’s window above them.  
“Uh oh,” Gwaine said suddenly after a small, peaceful pause. “I hope Gaius didn’t hear that.”  
Merlin went completely stiff. “Oh _no_ ,” he said, and then relaxed and started giggling.  
Gwaine joined in. He felt light-headed, a little more than alcohol and sex could explain. “I’m going to have to protest that my intentions are entirely honourable,” he said.  
Merlin was laughing into his fist, shaking against Gwaine. “Are they?”  
Gwaine laughed. “All the time, promise,” he said, and busied himself with counting the vertebrae on Merlin’s spine.  
  
He was woken by the clanging of the bells and Merlin’s body sitting up hard against him. “Oh no, I’ll be late!”  
Gaius’s voice said, tactfully, just outside the door, “Merlin, you’re going to be late.”  
“I know!” Merlin yelled back, wrestling himself out of the bed, and running around trying to find his clothes.  
Gwaine smiled to himself, lay back and enjoyed the view. He was starting to enjoy Camelot.


	2. Decisions

_He was woken by the clanging of the bells and Merlin’s body sitting up hard against him. “Oh no, I’ll be late!”_  
 _Gaius’s voice said, tactfully, just outside the door, “Merlin, you’re going to be late.”_  
 _“I know!” Merlin yelled back, wrestling himself out of the bed, and running around trying to find his clothes._  
 _Gwaine smiled to himself, lay back and enjoyed the view. He was starting to enjoy Camelot._  
  
***********************  
  
He changed his mind almost immediately when he finally plucked up the courage to sneak out of Merlin’s room and found Gaius amongst his many potions, very pointedly inspecting the bottom of a test tube rather than look at Gwaine.  
Gwaine dithered, but he had always been one to take the bull by the horns, so to speak. Whatever else he was, he was an honest man.  
“…Sorry if we kept you awake last night, Gaius.”  
Gaius finally looked away from his potions and his face twitched into a very small smile. “It is fine,” he said, and Gwaine felt himself relax - he had been more tense than he realised. “I’m glad Merlin is having fun for once,” Gaius continued. “He doesn’t often get to enjoy himself.”  
This chimed so closely to what Gwaine himself had thought last night that he found himself fidgeting uncomfortably. “Well,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “Now I’m here to change that.”  
He winced inwardly; it sounded a little too much like a sexual innuendo now that he played that back to himself, but Gaius just smiled and nodded and went back to his potions.  
  
Merlin interrupted Gwaine’s prowling of the lower town later that morning with the bad news of what Arthur had decided was their ‘payment’ for the previous night. They sat in the throne room close together, surrounded by pairs of boots, the golden morning light streaming in through the windows. Merlin, despite their ridiculous chore, was cheerful, and Gwaine wasn’t quite sure whether it was due to his influence or Arthur’s.  
They talked of their fathers again. Merlin seemed somewhat desperate to talk about his, Gwaine could sense it. Maybe he didn’t have anyone to talk to about it. Maybe this was another secret woe of his.  
“If there’s one thing, “ Gwaine told him, “That I learnt from my father’s life, is that titles don’t mean anything. It’s what’s inside that counts.” He tapped Merlin on the leg with his scrubbing brush…right where he knew he had bruised it in their little night-time skirmish. Merlin yelped, smiling, and Gwaine allowed himself a little congratulatory smirk, for reminding Merlin of what they had got up to.  
They scrubbed away at the boots in silence for a bit, and then Merlin spoke again, a little more haltingly this time.  
“You see the good in everyone,” he said. Gwaine flashed him a quick glance, but Merlin shrugged and carried on. “I can tell that about you. You think everyone is important.”  
It was like he had reached into Gwaine’s head, had reached through all the bluster and japery and had plucked at that one bit of him no one else ever noticed. A simple, unassuming manservant and he had the wisdom to instantly see straight into what Gwaine really was. Gwaine felt immediately, strangely defensive.   
“So?”  
“But then you tell me you hate nobles, you call Arthur a braggart,” Merlin persisted. “You imply that nobility is defined by what you do, but if that’s the case Arthur is noble, whether he’s the prince of Camelot or not.”  
Gwaine stared at Merlin. He was completely taken aback. “I haven’t seen that,” he said, more harshly than he intended. This wasn’t entirely true, but he was feeling oddly bare and exposed.   
“You will,” Merlin replied easily. “Promise.”   
He was completely confident, as if he trusted Arthur to prove this beyond doubt. And the way he looked whenever he spoke of Arthur…it was like he was lit up from the inside, he became all soft angles and faraway eyes. That amount of devotion could make anyone believe in Arthur, it could make them believe in anything really. For the first time, Gwaine felt a little stab of bitterness, that he had no one who believed in him half as much as Merlin did in Arthur.  
He turned away a little sharply and concentrated on the boot. For a while, there was only the sound of the two of them brushing hard.  
“Um, so,” Merlin said, suddenly awkward, and Gwaine inwardly rolled his eyes because he knew what was coming. “About, uh. About last night.”  
Gwaine cut him off. “Fun, wasn’t it?” He glanced at Merlin, eyes sparkling, waited for Merlin to pause, then relax and smile his customary life-ruining smile.  
“Yes,” he said simply.  
“Good,” Gwaine replied, and they sat and grinned at each other for a bit. Merlin broke his gaze first, reaching for another boot, and they carried on their chore in companionable silence. The light was golden, the throne room sparkled and Merlin was smiling and happy.   
Gwaine hadn’t felt this relaxed in a long time.  
  
Events - as they always did - took a turn for the worse. Merlin came back to Gaius’s later that day with bleeding fingers and a story about blunted swords that were in actuality not blunt at all, and they soon unravelled the plot surrounding Arthur. It was the first time Gwaine had seen Merlin worried for Arthur and it was in no way going to be the last. Merlin was all action, hardly able to keep still, that underlining seriousness coming to the fore. He did not have one doubt, was not going to accept any other explanation, was definitely not going to let it go. Gwaine, with misgivings, allowed him to go to Sir Oswald’s chamber alone.  
It didn’t take too long until he was worrying as well and it was lucky that he did, for when he arrived in Sir Oswald’s chamber Merlin was about to become the equivalent of a pig on a spit, what with the knives being thrown at him and all. Gwaine and Oswald fought, the knights came in, he was dragged before the king.  
And of course Uther was, as he knew he would be, utterly cold, utterly cruel. It was only thanks to Arthur that he left the throne room in one piece at all.  
Thanks to _Arthur_ …  
  
Arthur caught up with Gwaine, Merlin and Gaius in the corridor afterwards, after the guards had undone his shackles and sent him off to pack.  
“Gwaine,” he said. “Can I have a word?”  
Merlin and Gaius shot Gwaine worried looks, but he flashed them his most comforting smile. “It’s fine,” he said. “Go.” He figured Arthur couldn’t really do much worse to him at this point.  
Arthur waited until Merlin and Gaius’s footsteps faded away before he spoke. He was grave, eyes dark in the dim light.  
“I wanted to thank you,” he said, somewhat stiltedly.  
Gwaine frowned. “For beating up one of your knights?”  
Arthur’s face adopted an expression that Gwaine would, later on, come to associate with Merlin saying something particularly dense. It was as if Arthur couldn’t quite believe how dim he was being. “No-oo,” he said slowly. “I meant to thank you for helping Merlin.”  
Gwaine was stunned into silence.  
Arthur shifted a bit. “Look, I don’t know what went on between with you and Sir Oswald, but I’ve rarely seen Merlin as rattled as he was back there. And he does have an unerring propensity for getting himself into trouble, so…you know…thanks.”  
Gwaine, with difficulty, stopped his jaw from falling right open. “You’re welcome?” he said, his bafflement making it sound like a question.  
“I’m just sorry that you had to pay by - ” Arthur started, then cut off the sentence quickly. Gwaine was visited by the sudden revelation that perhaps Arthur was just as unhappy that he was leaving as Gwaine was.  
They shuffled around in awkward silence.  
“Anyway,” Gwaine said.  
“Anyway,” said Arthur, made a few weak gestures that could have meant anything and then turned on his heel, striding back down the corridor from whence he had come.  
Gwaine dithered in the corridor for a bit before he realised he was meant to be being banished and high-tailed it back to Gaius’s chambers.  
  
Merlin was miserable at his leaving, which was oddly satisfying. It was a wrench saying that Arthur was perhaps worth dying for after all, but worth it for the glow it put on Merlin’s face. At least, Gwaine thought forlornly as he left Gaius’s chambers, he got to give him that last bit of happiness before he left.  
  
He was good at getting out of places quickly and was quite a way from Camelot before he realised that he was doing completely the wrong thing.  
All his life, Gwaine had run away from things. People, places. There were a million reasons for it, always had been, but the main one was that he’d never felt like he belonged. He had always found himself eventually becoming someone he was not, with people he hated. He was the joker, or the seducer, and he was never, ever taken seriously.  
But in Camelot, he had not felt like that. He’d felt… _comfortable_. Sometimes, such as when he’d been defending Merlin from those murderers, he’d felt like the knight he knew he was, deep inside of him. He remembered golden light streaming through windows, the sound of the city waking him up in the morning. He remembered the look on Merlin’s face when he spoke of Arthur, the look on Gwen’s face when she spoke of Arthur, and of course Arthur himself in all his awkward and surprising benevolence.   
Arthur was going to die. And Gwaine realised, with a wrench, that he _cared_ about this.  
He turned back.  
   
  
  



	3. Rescues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finishes the events of 3x04: Gwaine and follows the events of 3x08: Eye Of The Phoenix.

_Arthur was going to die. And Gwaine realised, with a wrench, that he cared about this._

_He turned back._

_****************************  
_

Once again, he arrived just in time to save someone from being horribly murdered, Arthur on this occasion, and of course his reward was to be promptly arrested by the king. Arthur stepped in hastily and battled to keep Gwaine out of the cells, but he still had to hang around outside the throne room while Uther decided his fate.

Merlin caught up with him there; he turned the corner, eyes wild, took one look at Gwaine, then flew up to him, threw his arms around his neck and kissed him fiercely on the mouth. It was such a surprise, and Merlin was, of course, so naturally clumsy that Gwaine had to grab hold of his waist to keep them both upright. Despite this, he still almost lost his balance, especially when he felt Merlin's tongue slide against his.

He pulled away slowly, keeping hold of Merlin's waist. "Well if that's the thanks I get for saving Arthur, I'll do it more often!"

Merlin smiled the sort of smile that made Gwaine want to go and climb mountains. "Thank you. Truly."

That smile was addictive; Gwaine found himself smiling back despite himself.

"Maybe you'll be allowed to stay," Merlin continued hopefully. Gwaine shook his head, smile fading; he knew just what sort of king Uther was and he didn't even want to entertain the idea, he didn't want to hope.

He let go of the suddenly subdued Merlin and they stood and waited.

It was a no. Of course it was a no. And Gwaine had to leave all over again.

 

He went to Mercia and proceeded to drown his sorrows with ale, fights and sex. It got easier as time went on, but even several months down the line he would keep himself awake thinking about Camelot, about Merlin, and about the mysterious sorrow the latter carried within him. He would lie, either in bed or in the forest, either alone or not, and look up at the moon and remember it streaming through Merlin's little bedroom window deep in the night. He kept the thoughts of his time in Camelot, of that strange sense of _belonging_ , locked tight inside him, a handful of glowing memories which would keep him warm on even the coldest nights.

He did not think he would ever see Camelot again. And then, one day, Merlin came back into his life.

It was the normal sort of day, insult a man, get accused of cheating, start a bar fight. The day got a thousand times better when Merlin walked through the door and said, with his goddamned smile, "Hello Gwaine."

Of course he was there about Arthur. But he was still _there_. He'd thought of Gwaine when he needed help. _He hadn't forgotten him_. Of course Gwaine was going to go with him.

And of course he was going to go to the Perilous Lands with him, and of course he was going to camp in the dark there with Merlin and listen to the 'pheasants' surrounding them. It was absurd, utterly absurd. He doubted Merlin even knew how much he treasured his few memories of his time in Camelot, how much he missed the place no matter how briefly he had been there. He was unable to stop himself from saying, when Merlin asked him why he was helping him, the complete truth.

"Same reason as you. To help a friend."

Merlin mistook that to mean Arthur. Because his definition of a friend _was_ Arthur, because to him Arthur _was_ the embodiment of friendship. Because Merlin always seem to discount his own importance and influence on everything, on everyone.

"Not Arthur," Gwaine said, a trifle awkwardly. He felt unguarded, and nervous at feeling so. Emotion was dangerous, emotion could be turned against you. It was the chink in the armour, it was the flesh underneath that could be so easily pierced.

Merlin took this deeply to heart, he instinctively understood the importance of what Gwaine had said. He looked at Gwaine with surprise, but there was no hiding of his own emotions, no covering up. Gwaine had laid himself bare, so so did Merlin. It was just what Merlin did. He was so…trusting.

"I'd do the same for you," he said simply, and Gwaine believed him. That was why he continued with,

"Well, I hope so. You're the only friend I've got."

This was always a surprise to people when they heard it. They always assumed that someone so charismatic as Gwaine, so naturally optimistic and fun-loving as he was, would have many friends. And he did, for a very short time, before he stopped being what they expected him to be. The thing about Merlin was that he did not expect, and had never expected, Gwaine to be anything but himself _._

They sat for hours, Gwaine with his hand on the hilt of his sword, listening to the 'pheasants' around them and watching the fire burn down. Neither of them mentioned sleep.

"Why did you come to find me?" Gwaine said at some point later on. The question had been hanging over him since Merlin had appeared.

Merlin blinked, then appeared to consider this carefully, watching the fire. "Because you're good with a sword," he said finally, and grinned at Gwaine. Gwaine laughed, turned his head away, then Merlin said in a totally different tone, "And…" and then trailed off.

Gwaine looked back at Merlin. Merlin was looking at him with that look he sometimes had, so open and yet paradoxically so guarded. Gwaine had never seen such a look as that, and could not comprehend what it was that had created this look in such a person as Merlin. Merlin was an enigma sometimes. Was this what Arthur saw in him as well? Was this why he kept Merlin around? To try and solve that enigma?

Gwaine leaned forward and kissed him.

Their kisses always started sweet, exploratory, as though neither of them were quite sure what to do, and then they relaxed together and the next thing Gwaine knew he had hold of Merlin's hips and Merlin was pushing against him, mouth reaching for more, hands in Gwaine's hair. He always gave himself utterly whenever they did this, as if he couldn't conceive of going about it any other way.

Merlin had just slid a hand under Gwaine's shirt, his flesh cold on Gwaine's, when one of the screeching sounds, louder than the rest and closer, made them both jump, and Gwaine wheeled around to grab his sword again, which had fallen out of his grip in the proceedings.

They stared into the darkness, but nothing stared back. After a long moment of silence, both relaxed.

Merlin ruffled his hair with one hand, embarrassed. "Uh. Maybe there are other things we should be focusing on tonight."

Gwaine rolled his eyes. "Great. Cockblocked by a pheasant."

Merlin let out a loud laugh before he could stop himself, then slammed his mouth shut and put his hand over it. His eyes twinkled at Gwaine over his hand. Gwaine grinned back.

 

Arthur was none too pleased to see them, and that was putting it lightly. He rankled Gwaine; he was arrogant and dramatic and he treated Merlin appallingly, even if most of it was in jest, and Gwaine probably would have ended up punching the future king in the face if he hadn't shown such transparent concern when Merlin got trapped in the throne room.

They banged on the door together, shouting Merlin's name, but got no response from the other side.

"This is ridiculous," Arthur snapped, having shouted himself hoarse. "He shouldn't even be here. Why did you let him come here?"

Gwaine set his jaw, annoyed at the implication that he was irresponsible. "He was worried about _you_. I don't know if you've noticed, but he cares about you!"

Arthur looked, briefly, like he was going to be sick. Then, just as quickly, his expression brightened.

"There'll be a lever on this side of the door, behind one of these stones maybe. Come on!"

He had to stick his hand in a hole full of bugs. Gwaine felt a bit better. Never let it be said that Gwaine did not thoroughly enjoy petty revenge.

Merlin was fine, of course, though a little shaken. Arthur, being the insensitive little twerp he was, barely gave him a pat on the arm, Gwaine gave him a proper hug, Arthur found the trident and off they were again, off home.

Except it wasn't home. Not for Gwaine. He had, in all the excitement, foolishly forgotten this bit.

They paused in the long golden grass and said their goodbyes, and he watched them trot to the castle beyond together, his throat tight.

 _You can't keep living like that_ , Merlin had said, and he had been right.


	4. Tensions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during the events of 3x12 and 3x13: The Coming of Arthur (Parts 1 & 2)

_They paused in the long golden grass and said their goodbyes, and he watched them trot to the castle beyond together, his throat tight._   
_You can’t keep living like that, Merlin had said, and he had been right._

* * *

Strangely, the second separation was almost easier to bear. It was as if, by coming back into Gwaine’s life, Merlin had unconsciously promised he would do so again. All Gwaine had to do was wait. And if he spent this time boozing, carousing and generally having fun, well, why not?

At least, he _was_ having fun until Jarl the slave trader caught him, and then it went a bit downhill. Being stuck in the cold bowels of a castle with a bunch of ugly sweaty men was not as fun as being in a nice warm tavern with a bunch of beautiful people, but Gwaine was optimistic he would get out soon. That was why he'd elected to be Jarl's champion - he was going to beat whoever his opponent was and escape while everyone was distracted. Of course, this brilliant plan had to be ruined by bloody _Arthur Pendragon_.

And of course Arthur had to be nobly putting himself in danger to save Merlin as well. It was obvious nothing had changed between them. Gwaine was torn between being jealously annoyed and enormously grateful that Merlin had someone like Arthur to protect him. He gave Arthur a run for his money though, in their following fight. There was no way he could pass up an opportunity to knock Arthur on his ungrateful, arrogant arse. He tried to pretend that they were letting their competitive natures getting the better of them rather than semi-consciously having a catfight about a certain big-eared, big-hearted servant, but he couldn't quite convince himself.

And then, as always happened with these two it seemed, the world erupted into chaos just at the opportune moment and they ran for it. And Arthur was on a quest, of course, and of course Gwaine let himself get taken along for the ride. There was something about these two, something compelling, something that made you want to run along beside them, and fight with them, and be just as noble and honourable as them. If Gwaine hadn't already acknowledged the fact that secretly, deep down, he wanted to be a knight, the allure of Arthur and Merlin would have done it.

They had this sense of _community_ , of belonging, they had a shared sense that what they could create would be truly beautiful, and good, and legendary, as long as they stuck together. It was purely unconscious to them but crystal clear to Gwaine and probably many others.

So he followed them. He followed them to the druid cave and helped them take the cup, and then he followed Merlin when they lost the cup and Arthur got injured. They sat on opposite ends of the fire together and Gwaine watched the sombre Merlin once more emerge, watched as he worried over the feverish Arthur, watched as he missed Gwaine's gentle teasing entirely. When Merlin was dark and serious like that, Gwaine thought as he miserably gathered firewood, he might as well be a million miles away, for all that Gwaine could do to help him.

Arthur recovered, barely, and they struggled on to an abandoned Camelot. Arthur, although he was on his last legs, would not give up on his kingdom, and it was addictive, because Gwaine followed him without a word of protest. He _wanted_ to help Arthur. Because he was a prat, just as Merlin said, but he was also an honourable man, and a true leader at heart. Gwaine could see why a person so loyal and so wise as Merlin would follow Arthur. Anyone would, if they saw him like Merlin did.

He stayed with them when Morgana's betrayal was revealed for what it was and they ran to hide in the caves, and he stayed even when Arthur lost his spirit. Because Merlin, in association, also lost spirit.

Gwaine realised this when he went out to gather water and found Merlin sitting on a log just outside the cave, moping and ignoring the danger to himself. He had been upbeat around the others, but seeing him like that Gwaine realised that it had all been forced all along. He should have _known._

He sat next to Merlin and watched him pull at the grass, twirling it around in his hands before letting it fall in shreds to the ground.

"Talk to him," Gwaine said after a while.

Merlin snorted ungraciously. "He never listens to me."

Gwaine tutted. "Not true and you know it. Come _on_ , Merlin."

There was a sound in the trees beyond, he gripped his sword quickly and glanced round but there was nothing there. When he looked back at Merlin, Merlin was looking right at him, blue eyes wide.

"What?" Gwaine asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"Nothing," Merlin retorted, then leaned forward and kissed Gwaine swiftly on the cheek. His lips barely brushed Gwaine's skin, the kiss was so brief, but Gwaine felt his insides light up anyway, in a way they hadn't done for many months.

"Thanks," Merlin said, then stood up and vanished back into the cave.

Gwaine scratched at his cheek and smiled to himself.

 

Whatever good Gwaine's words had done, they hadn't for long, because Merlin was soon downcast again, and this time he didn't even bother to hide it. He sat, alone, and brooded, and Gwaine finally got fed up with it.

"Merlin," he said. "I've got to get firewood. Come with me."

Merlin glanced at Arthur, who was chewing at his food distractedly. Gwaine set his jaw. "Come on," he said a bit more firmly.

Merlin looked at him for a long moment, and then obeyed.

They walked through the forest silently, keeping their eyes out for guards, and the absence of noise was almost oppressive. Gwaine waited until they had found a particularly shaded bit of forest, then stopped.

Merlin frowned. "What are you doing? There's no decent firewood here."

"No," Gwaine agreed, and then turned on his heel, took Merlin's face in his hands and kissed him.

Merlin stiffened, even worse than the first time Gwaine had kissed him, and pulled back as far as Gwaine would let him. "I can't," he mumbled, but his eyes were on Gwaine's mouth.

Gwaine put his hand on Merlin's chest and felt his heart, fluttering like a little bird. "Rubbish," he said, and kissed Merlin again.

Merlin resisted for maybe only a second more, then went completely limp and twined his arms around Gwaine's neck, pushing into him. Gwaine tightened one arm around his waist, leaving the other on Merlin's chest, and deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue along Merlin's. Merlin tasted of pine, a bittersweet taste, and his heart pounded against Gwaine's palm.

They broke apart for air, and Gwaine half expected Merlin to protest, to say something about the dangers around them, but instead Merlin seemed disorientated, and only looked at Gwaine through glazed eyes and reached for his mouth again. They kissed, this time fiercely, and Merlin clung to Gwaine so tightly that he could feel his nails digging into his shoulders even through his chain mail. He grabbed hold of Merlin's hips and pushed him, and they both stumbled backwards against a tree trunk. Gwaine slid his hand between them and grasped Merlin's clothed cock, hot and hard against his hand, and Merlin broke the kiss to groan and push his head insistently against the back of the tree trunk.

Gwaine moved his hands back up to the waistband of Merlin's trousers and gently slid them inside; Merlin arched into the touch, his neck curved, his breathing hard and irregular.

He watched Merlin's face as he took hold of his cock with careful, firm strokes and started to undo him, watched his eyelids flutter closed and then open, watched his Adam's apple bob in his throat as he gasped and moaned and leaned into Gwaine, his body as hot as if he had a fever. He watched, and took in every nuance of Merlin's expression, and then, knowing he was close, moved in and bit that ridiculously pale, beautiful neck as hard as he could, and Merlin shouted something indefinable and came, shaking and rigid, into Gwaine's hand.

The silence that followed was heavier than the previous had been. Gwaine removed his hands, wiping them unsubtly against Merlin's trousers, then burrowed his nose into Merlin's neck and breathed in the cool scent of him. After a while, Merlin's tremors died down, and Gwaine felt a hand slide carefully into his hair.

"Please stop worrying," he said into Merlin's collarbone. It wasn't meant to sound as weak as it did.

Merlin's hand stroked his hair gently. "Can't help it," he said, and he sounded at peace, and Gwaine thought, faintly, that at least he was at peace for now.

He didn't reply. After a moment, Merlin tensed and then said, haltingly, "I. Um. Shall I - ?"

Gwaine looked up at Merlin, and then realised he was pressed against Merlin, and that he was achingly hard.

He pulled away. "No," he said.

"But - " started Merlin. He looked ruffled and still a bit dazed, leaning back against the tree like it was the only thing holding him up.

"It's fine," Gwaine said, not unkindly. "Come on, we'd better get back."

He held out a hand to Merlin, and Merlin, without hesitation, took it. His hand was cool and light in Gwaine's, except when they neared the cave, where he squeezed it once, tightly and nervously.

Gwaine let him go and they carried on as they always had. Arthur, not soon after that, regained his spirit, and they were soon on the move again to an abandoned castle, where Gwaine sat at the dark, ruined round table and then, later, was made a knight.

 _That_ was a terrifying experience. He knelt with the others willingly enough, but when he felt Arthur's sword touch first one shoulder and then the other, he thought he was going to be sick. He wanted to leap up and be off. He wanted to run out of the castle and keep running, he wanted to do what he had done all his life, just run, just run.

Then he glanced up and Merlin was standing there on the edges of the fire, and he was smiling at Gwaine with so much joy and pride that Gwaine realised he couldn't move even if he wanted to.

He lay in the dark that night and stared up at the drab ceiling while the others slept around him, and gently fingered the necklace around his neck. It had been given to him by his father, it was all he had left of him.

He was a knight. Like his father. And sure, it might be gone tomorrow when he was slaughtered by a castle full of immortal soldiers, but here, now, in this silent, dark moment, he was Sir Gwaine.

 _Sir Gwaine._ It sounded good. He wrapped his fingers firmly around his necklace and fell asleep.


	5. Revelries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between the end of season 3 and the beginning of season 4.

 

_He was a knight. Like his father. And sure, it might be gone tomorrow when he was slaughtered by a castle full of immortal soldiers, but here, now, in this silent, dark moment, he was Sir Gwaine._

_Sir Gwaine. It sounded good. He wrapped his fingers firmly around his necklace and fell asleep._

* * *

Once again, Gwaine survived. He was good at it, and wouldn't have considered it more than another good story to tell in a tavern, except that this time he had been given a prize better than any other he had ever received - his knighthood. Suddenly there was no more packing up, no more turning tail and fleeing to the next tavern - in its place was Camelot, with everything that came along with it.

Gwaine had a room in the castle where, for the first time in many years, he unpacked his bag and actually set up his few possessions. It was the strangest feeling, doing this, but not unwelcome. He thoroughly enjoyed his first proper day of training as a new knight.

It was the second day that got him. He woke up in a cold sweat early that morning, realising, with horror, that he was following a _routine._ He was expected to be in certain places at certain times, he was expected to do things even if he might not feel like doing them. _Things were expected of him._

He spent the entire morning sitting in an abandoned alcove of the castle with his head between his knees, trying to breathe, and that was how Merlin found him in the early afternoon.

"There you are!" he said, hurrying up to Gwaine. He looked harassed. "Arthur's been nagging and nagging at me to find you." He paused, suddenly noticing the strange position Gwaine was in. "…What are you doing?"

Gwaine swept his head out from between his knees, making sure to let his hair fly Gwaine-style, and smiled his most dashing smile. "Nothing!" he said brightly. "Nothing wrong with me, you know I'm fine. I'm always fine."

This move had worked with everyone else he had ever tried it on, either because they were naïve enough to believe him or just didn't care enough. It did not work on Merlin. He frowned, then sat down beside Gwaine in the alcove, making him shift over to accommodate him.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "I thought this was what you wanted."

Gwaine looked at Merlin, suddenly so serious, and wondered, not for the first time, why Merlin bothered with him at all.

"It is," he said. "I do."

"So, in that case why are you hiding in the depths of the castle rather than going to training? It can't be just to raise Arthur's blood pressure."

Gwaine found himself smiling despite himself. "It's…" he said, and didn't know how to finish the sentence. How could he? _It's the responsibility. It's being trapped, kept in one place, shut in. It's having to live up to expectations. It's having to make my dead father proud, having to make this living prince proud for reasons I can't understand yet. It's having to_ try _, Merlin, when I have never had to try at all before._

"It's difficult," he said at last, haltingly.

And, somehow, that was all he needed to say. Merlin seemed to read everything else in his expression like he was an open book. His own expression softened, until it was almost like he blended in with the golden light streaming through the window. Honestly, sometimes Gwaine could swear that Merlin _glowed._

"I know," Merlin said, and Gwaine knew, with a strange conviction, that he absolutely did.

He sighed. "Hiding here isn't going to do much good, is it?"

He was given a crooked smile in return. "Not really. Plus if I don't come back with you, Arthur will hit me with something."

"Oh, well then." Gwaine stood up and held out a hand for Merlin to take. "I'd better go with you and stop Arthur from damaging that gorgeous face of yours. But you owe me."

Merlin took the proffered hand, smiling properly now. "I'll remember that," he said.

His smile made Gwaine want to fight dragons and bring Merlin back all the gold he could carry. He winked. "You'd better."

They walked back to the training field, where Gwaine cockily professed to have been distracted by the charms of the local tavern, and Arthur tutted but said nothing, and Merlin smiled and stayed silent.

* * *

 

The rest of the week went swimmingly, so swimmingly in fact that once seven days of full on training had passed, Gwaine and the rest of the knights decided to forget their aching muscles by going to the tavern and getting absolutely _plastered._

They passed by Arthur's chambers, where a full scale argument was in progress, echoing right down the corridor.

"You're such a _moron,_ Merlin, a _complete_ and _utter_ \- "

"For the last _time_ , I didn't touch them, maybe if you actually kept your stuff in one place - "

"Merlin, are you accusing the prince of Camelot of being _slovenly?_ "

"… _Yes!_ "

"Ah," said Leon wisely, who was the one that had the most experience with Arthur and Merlin's bickering. "Here is where we butt in." He knocked politely on the door.

There was a long silence, and then Arthur said dangerously, " _What?_ "

The knights poked their heads around the door. Merlin and Arthur were standing on opposite sides of the table, both sets of arms crossed, glaring at each other.

"We're going to the tavern," Percival said timidly. "Want to come?"

" _No!_ " Arthur yelled, then, before they could scurry away, said suddenly, "Wait! Take Merlin."

Merlin stared at Arthur. "I don't want to go to the tavern."

Arthur glowered right back. "I don't know why not, you seem to spend most of your time there anyway."

"I do _not_ \- "

"Oh, for - just get out of my sight, you're driving me insane!"

" _No._ "

"I order you!"

"You - _order_ me?"

"Yes."

"Sorry - you're _ordering_ me to go to the tavern?"

"Yes! Will you just do what I say for once!"

There was a tense moment. Merlin set his jaw. "Fine," he said. "I'll go to the tavern, then. _On your orders._ "

"Fine," retorted Arthur. "Great."

They glared at each other a bit more. It was Merlin who relented, uncrossing his arms and storming out of the room with a barely concealed mutter of ' _clotpole'._

Tentatively, the rest of the knights followed suit. Gwaine hesitated, about to leave, but something made him turn back into the room. Arthur was sitting at the table now, but he wasn't frowning, in fact there was a bit of a grin playing around the corners of his mouth. He looked up in surprise when Gwaine re-entered.

"Sure you don't want to come along?" Gwaine asked, half of him wondering what the hell he was doing. "You could…"

Arthur's grin turned ironic. "I couldn't," he said. "The prince of Camelot turning up in one of the city's taverns apparently kills the mood a bit."

"Oh." For the first time, Gwaine realised how lonely Arthur's position had to be. He was a knight, but he could never be _one of the knights_. He couldn't go out with them, or socialise with them outside of training. He always had to be a little apart from them, a little separate. He had to stay respectable on those occasions when no one else needed to. It had to be depressing. "Right then," he said awkwardly, and made to leave, but Arthur spoke again before he could.

"Could you just, um." He cleared his throat. "Just make sure Merlin has a nice time, would you?"

Gwaine forgot all knightly conventions and simply stared. Arthur scratched the back of his neck and looked away from Gwaine, clearly embarrassed.

"He always follows me," he said finally, all traces of a smile gone. "He follows me into any danger we end up in. Every time."

"That's what Merlin does," Gwaine said, a bit stupidly.

"I know, I - " Arthur sighed. "I can't fault his loyalty. But he needs to have fun for once, he needn't miss out if I have to."

He looked somehow small sitting by that big table by himself. Gwaine could see why Merlin was always so loathe to leave him. It had to be terribly lonesome sometimes.

"Right," he said agreeably. "Show Merlin a good time. You can rely on me to do that."

Arthur frowned. "Not _too_ good. I want my manservant back in one piece."

Gwaine winked. "No promises, Princess."

Smirking at Arthur's face, which was torn between outrage at the nickname and hysterical laughter, Gwaine departed.

* * *

 

They crowded themselves into the already overfilling tavern, to a table where they were so squashed together that their knees knocked together. Leon was promptly sent off to get the drinks, and they sat and grinned at one another. Gwaine, by his own cunning design, was sitting directly opposite Merlin, who was squashed between Percival and Elyan and smiling from ear to ear. He beamed at Gwaine.

"What're you so happy about?" asked Gwaine suspiciously.

"You're a knight," Merlin said with simple joy, and this time his smile set Gwaine off too; he was filled with a sudden glee, a sudden sense of _success_ , which he had never felt before. They grinned at each other foolishly like giggly schoolboys, and only stopped when Leon banged down several huge tankards of ale in front of them.

"Drink up!" he yelled, to many cheers.

"Oh dear," Merlin said, as he was passed his tankard. "I don't think this was a very good idea."

Percival gave Merlin a friendly nudge, already halfway through his own drink. "Can't take your ale, Merlin?"

"Not at all," Merlin replied, eyes almost as big as his tankard.

"Good," Gwaine put in smoothly, then, when Merlin looked up at him, winked rakishly and finished his own ale off in one go.

When he lowered the tankard, Merlin had adopted a determined look about him. "Right then," he said, and tipped back his own tankard, to the cheers of everyone around him.

* * *

 

"I'm not drunk," Merlin slurred as the two of them wound their way down the empty path home several tankards later, clutching tight to each other. Gwaine knew it was meant to be cold, but he couldn't seem to convince his drink-addled mind of this - he felt pleasantly warm from top to toe.

"Yes," he argued, helping Merlin over a barrel that was in his path, his hands wandering perhaps a little more than necessary. "You are."

Merlin clung to Gwaine, constantly on the verge of giggles. "Am _not._ It's the _path._ It's moving."

Gwaine glared at the path. It was indeed moving, which was very disobliging of it, considering he was concentrating as hard as he could on it. "True," he agreed.

Merlin was hugging his waist, his hand a little lower than it usually was. It was very distracting. " _There_ you go, then," he said cheerfully. He couldn't seem to stop talking. "Not drunk. It's the road. The road is _magic!_ " And he cracked up laughing, as if this was the funniest thing he had said for years.

Gwaine realised suddenly, in a sober lurch, how loudly they were talking. "Better keep your voice down," he observed dimly. The last thing he needed was to get arrested for sorcery when he'd just found a place he'd really settled into.

"Oh yes." Merlin slowed. "Forbidden. I forgot. It's a _secret_. Shhhhhh!" He lurched forward and pressed a clumsy finger to Gwaine's lips, and Gwaine momentarily forgot everything in favour of focusing on Merlin's ridiculously blue eyes, and his brilliant smile, and the feel of his skin on Gwaine's.

"Idiot," he heard himself say faintly.

Merlin slid his finger slowly down Gwaine's bottom lip. "No," he said quietly. "Not an idiot. But that's a secret too."

They were pressed tightly together, beyond all social conventions. Gwaine could feel Merlin's heart thumping against his own. He smiled. "You're making no sense, Merlin."

Merlin's beautiful eyes had gone unfocused. "Mmhmmm," he drawled, and then leaned forward and kissed Gwaine square on the mouth. It was a little sloppy, but enthusiastic, and Gwaine was swept up in it before he could stop himself. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the warmth of the body against him, on the feel of Merlin's fingers pushing through his hair.

"I see you're just the sort of drunk I like," he said when they broke for air, then wriggled as Merlin's hands dived for his trousers. "Merlin," he said warningly, but Merlin was ignoring him in favour of groping his arse with cold hands. " _Merlin_ ," he said more insistently. "Not - not _here!_ "

He definitely did not squeak that last bit. Sir Gwaine, noble and knight of Camelot, did not _squeak._

Merlin, to his credit, paused. "Shall we - ?" he breathed. "I mean, can we - ?"

"Yes," Gwaine replied hurriedly. "Yes, but - s-somewhere warmer - come on - "

"Warmer," Merlin agreed, and pressed into Gwaine again. Gwaine swore colourfully and forcibly pushed Merlin away to arms length, turning him around and pushing him down the path as quickly as possible.

* * *

 

They collapsed rather than walked into Gwaine's room, in a tangle of limbs. Gwaine wasn't sure which limbs were his, he was so cold and disorientated. He didn't care much though, especially not when it would involve moving away from Merlin to work it out.

Merlin was in full rambling mode, when he could tear his lips away from Gwaine long enough to say something. "I liked tonight," he said happily, not noticing Gwaine's attempts to pull his shirt off. "Did you like tonight? I liked tonight."

"Yes," Gwaine said, struggling. "Merlin, top _off_."

Merlin raised his arms obediently, and Gwaine pulled the shirt off and put his arms around Merlin. His skin was cold and pale in the moonlight, ethereal like some magical being, Gwaine thought, and then berated himself for being so girly and made up for it by kissing Merlin roughly.

Merlin hummed in pleasure. "I like you," he said, helping Gwaine with his own shirt. "Gwaine, _Gwaine_ , I like you."

Something inside of Gwaine lurched, and he hoped it was just the effects of the alcohol.

"Like tonight," Merlin carried on, rather deftly undoing Gwaine's trousers considering who he was and how drunk he was. "I like you like I liked tonight. I like…things."

"Merlin," Gwaine said, stepping out of his trousers and moving his hands to Merlin's. "Do you ever shut up?"

Merlin's answering smile blazed like the sun. "You sound like Ar - " Merlin started and Gwaine kissed him hurriedly to shut him up. He didn't want to hear that name, not now.

"Bed," he said, and pulled Merlin to him.

Merlin went willingly. "Bed."

* * *

 

They fell on the bed in a heap, but soon sorted themselves so that Merlin was under Gwaine, and Gwaine's fingers, slick with his muscle ointment, were pressed into him. He was probably a bit too rough considering how long it had been for Merlin, but Merlin didn't seem to mind, in fact he was egging him on with breathy little moans and hands that pulled and grasped for any bit of Gwaine he could reach.

Gwaine slicked up his own cock hastily and pushed into Merlin before anything had a chance to interrupt them, and Merlin gasped and arched into Gwaine, and for a moment they lay still, panting into each other's shoulders.

Merlin tugged at Gwaine first. "Come on," he said, "Gwaine, come on."

Gwaine rocked forward instinctively. He was so out of his mind with desire he couldn't speak even if he wanted to. He thrust forward, again and again and faster and faster, and Merlin whispered and babbled nonsense beneath him, and when he felt himself close he reached out into the darkness and grasped hold of Merlin's cock. Two strokes and Merlin was crying out and coming hard against Gwaine, and Gwaine shut his eyes and came too, harder than he had for ages.

They collapsed back into the mattress together. Merlin had, finally, shut up, and Gwaine could feel his chest gently moving in and out against his own. His fingers stroked gentle patterns down Gwaine's back. After a moment, Gwaine stirred and pressed a kiss into Merlin's dark hair.

"Oh, Merlin," he said, and Merlin hummed in reply, and they both fell silent.

* * *

 

When they woke the next morning, the bell was tolling outside, like it had that first time they had spent the night together in Merlin's poky little room. This time, however, instead of leaping out of bed in a panic, Merlin shuffled, groaned and pushed the palm of his hand to his head, eyes screwed shut.

" _Ow_."

Gwaine grinned, turning over to look at the tousled Merlin. "Feeling good?"

"Oh." Merlin stuck his tongue out. " _Ew_. My mouth tastes like something's died in it!"

"Welcome to my world," Gwaine said.

Merlin opened his eyes cautiously. Gwaine grinned down at him. "Good morning," he whispered.

Merlin smiled, and suddenly nothing else in the world mattered at all. "Good morning," he said softly.

And thus another perfect day broke out over Camelot.


	6. Progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Covers series 4, up to episode 8.

 

A/N: Apologies for the delay! Believe me, I have not abandoned this fic, and thank you for sticking with me!

* * *

 

_Merlin opened his eyes cautiously. Gwaine grinned down at him. "Good morning," he whispered._

_Merlin smiled, and suddenly nothing else in the world mattered at all. "Good morning," he said softly._

_And thus another perfect day broke out over Camelot._

* * *

The perfection did not last. It never did, Gwaine knew. But in Camelot he didn't mind the bad times so much, because he was surrounded by those who were not only sympathetic to his woes but helped him with them, and, more often than not, shared them.

The death of Lancelot was one of these occasions.

Strangely, Gwaine and Lancelot had got on. Gwaine was not entirely sure why this was; Lancelot was fond of nobility and chivalry and of making long speeches about both of these things, and Gwaine was fond of drinking, carousing and seducing random people. But it was impossible not to dislike Lancelot, he was almost irritatingly easy to get on with, and he suspected Lancelot thought he was funny, which he didn't mind so much because Lancelot was so serious sometimes that he needed someone to make him laugh. He was a bit like Merlin in that way. And - no, but it was more than that. Once Lancelot had spoken to Gwaine, when he'd made some half-pithy joke about his lack of nobility and his complete inability to be a decent knight. He'd leaned across the table and said, calmly and completely seriously, "Gwaine, you _are_ noble. You _are_ chivalrous. You _are_ a knight." Usually when people said that, Gwaine laughed in their faces. But he hadn't with Lancelot. He'd found himself _believing_ him.

So he sat on the steps of the castle during the funeral and stayed when everyone had left, even Gwen, and watched the pyre burn slowly down. He felt Lancelot deserved that much from Gwaine at least.

When the fire had very almost burnt down into embers, he was aware of someone behind him. Before he could turn, Merlin was sitting down beside him. He still looked like he had when Gwaine and Arthur had recovered from their unconsciousness, to find all well and Lancelot gone. He looked terribly upset.

Gwaine's heart melted at the sight of it. "Come here, you," he said, and put his arm around Merlin's scrawny shoulder. Merlin leaned into him easily; that was one thing Gwaine could boast about, Merlin never shied away from any physical contact with him, not even when he was at his most serious.

"I should have done something," Merlin said, after a miserable silence. His head was warm against Gwaine's shoulder.

Gwaine ran careful fingers through the hair gathered at the back of Merlin's head. "There was nothing you could have done," he said. "Lancelot made his choice."

There was a long pause, and then Merlin sighed. "I wish I could tell you," he said.

Gwaine frowned. "Tell me what?"

There was another long pause. "Nothing," Merlin said eventually. "Don't worry about it."

Gwaine had a fleeting but distinct impression that he had somehow missed something important in what Merlin had said, but for the life of him couldn't work out what it was. Merlin was enigma on enigma, and sometimes Gwaine wanted desperately to unravel this mystery, peel it away layer by layer. But maybe Merlin didn't need that. Maybe Merlin needed someone to listen to him, to accept what he said or didn't say, in short, to _trust him_.

He thought of Arthur, and how Arthur never listened to Merlin and barely seemed to trust him.

"Whatever you want, Merlin," he said quietly, and squeezed his shoulder.

They watched the fire go out together.

* * *

It was either his imagination or his hopefulness, but he could have sworn that Merlin was closer towards him after that. They had different and varying schedules so often didn't run into each other during the day, or only saw each other when Arthur was bossing both of them around separately, but after the funeral Merlin started searching Gwaine out after 'working' hours. This usually involved the tavern, or wandering the streets of the lower town causing low grade mischief and having a laugh, but just as often they would hang around Gwaine's room (rarely Merlin's - they shared an unspoken agreement that Gwaine's bed was comfier and there was less chance of them being interrupted by Gaius accidentally).

A lot of the time sex wasn't even involved; they often spent entire nights from dusk to dawn lying on Gwaine's bed in weird positions and talking about their past and their future and all their hopes that lay in between, for example. Another time they sat in a corridor and made paper animals out of bits of Arthur's discarded parchment, and then screwed these up into balls and ran around the castle flinging them at each other. One of their favourite things to do was sneak into the kitchens in the dead of the night and feed their faces, though once the head cook had cottoned on to the fact that it was them, it was harder to do because she set traps that were very painful if one stood on them accidentally in the dark. They played multiple and petty tricks on Arthur, which Gwaine always blamed on himself so that Merlin wouldn't get into trouble, only to find out that Merlin had owned up to Arthur later anyway. And once Gwaine took Merlin up to one of the higher towers of Camelot, and they broke onto the roof and he taught Merlin about the stars, which he had learnt all about by spending a fortnight travelling through a sort of desert wasteland with an old astronomer. That had been the longest fortnight of his life - once the old man got started he hadn't stopped - but at least Gwaine had learnt a lot. Plus it was nice to have Merlin admire him for something, to see him sitting there with shining eyes and devouring Gwaine's every word. Very nice.

Of course, just as much of the time sex _was_ involved. Merlin was very receptive, which Gwaine loved - mostly because he enjoyed giving pleasure to others, that was why he liked making jokes - and he was starting to love this more and more as time went on. He developed a sneaky system which involved accidentally-on-purpose bumping into Merlin when he was walking down a certain corridor with something for Arthur. The first time had been a genuine accident - Merlin had been carrying Arthur's breakfast and Gwaine had been coming the other way to do some extra sword work…and it had somehow ended with them pressing against one another, kissing heatedly, while Arthur's breakfast sat on a window ledge and got cold.

After that, Gwaine cunningly plotted so that they met in this corridor as many times as he could get away with. He knew Merlin suspected him of planning it, because Merlin was many things but he was not stupid, but he never said anything. Sometimes these meetings ended with them far more naked than was strictly allowed in one of Camelot's corridors and gasping hard into each others shoulders, sometimes Gwaine got a fleeting kiss if Merlin was running late, or a piece of Arthur's food fed to him if he wasn't. Once, and only once, Merlin snapped at him while he was trying to steal some food from Arthur's plate ("This is food for the king of Camelot and is not meant to be soiled by your filthy fingers!") but he'd just been rescued from the boggy woods by Arthur and Gwaine himself so Gwaine had to allow him that. The rest of the time, Merlin acquiesced to Gwaine's teasing and flirting with good humour, even when he was at his most stressed.

All in all, Merlin appreciated Gwaine, as he always had, as a source of fun, of relief. But it seemed, now more than ever before, he was appreciating him for more than that - for the long, open talks of a dear friend, for the sex of a devotee, and for the implicit trust Gwaine showed him constantly.

And Gwaine, in return, was falling head over heels in love with him.

* * *

Gaius vanished, presumed a traitor, and for the first time, Gwaine was in a real quandary about whether to side with Arthur or with Merlin, whose opinion was that Gaius had been abducted. He had never been in that position before, mostly because Merlin was either on Arthur's side or, if he wasn't, stayed tight-lipped and grim and told no one his secret woes. But he spoke out about Gaius, because he couldn't _not_ , and there was a division.

The problem was that they were as bad as each other. Arthur was as devoted to his uncle as Merlin was devoted to Gaius, and so neither would hear a bad word about the other. In Merlin's eyes, Arthur was deluded about Agravaine, but in Arthur's eyes Merlin was just as deluded about Gaius. Who was to say who was right?

Nevertheless, it did not take long for Gwaine to decide; Gaius had always been good to him. More than good, actually - Gaius had been kind, and wise, and caring. He had never judged Gwaine for being Gwaine. And when it came down to it, despite the secrets upon secrets, Gwaine trusted Merlin's judgement more than Arthur's.

He lurked in Gaius's rooms until Merlin turned up. Merlin was not in the best of moods, but Gwaine was a stubborn man.

"Probably don't need my help, then," he said in answer to Merlin's cold retorts carefully.

Merlin glanced over and shook his head slightly, but his expression, as it always seemed to do with Gwaine these days, was already starting to soften. The next thing he knew, he was riding with Merlin to rescue Gaius.

Afterwards, he was never quite sure if Merlin accepted his help because he trusted Gwaine, or because he had no one else who wanted to help him.

 

And then came the time with the Lamia.


	7. Hauntings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I return! With an extra long chapter to make up for my absences, so I hope you don't mind. Warning for man-sex in this chapter!
> 
> Also: TRIGGER WARNING for domestic violence and abuse, non-sexual.
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments, you're all wonderful. I have no idea how long this story will be - it was only meant to be a couple of chapters, but then Gwaine's character kept bugging me in true Gwaine-style, so...
> 
> This takes place from 4x09, The Lamia, right to the end of series 4.

 

* * *

_And then came the time with the Lamia._

* * *

The Lamia happened. Arthur saved the day, as he most often did, but the Lamia still happened. And when Gwaine woke from the enchantment, he remembered not only exactly what he had done on this occasion but all those _other_ occasions, those ones from his past, those occasions he had tried so hard to bury.

They teetered at the edge of his memory constantly on the trip back, plagued him so much that he was mostly silent, but thankfully no one noticed, they were all busy with their own issues. Everyone had apologised to everyone else, but there was still a certain amount of tension in the air. Gwaine knew that in a very short time the knights would be back to being best of friends again, especially when they reached Camelot and dived back into training and their old lives. Because the bond the knights all had with each other was strong, fiercely so sometimes. Gwaine felt terrible about what he had said and done to the others, and had spent a long time stammering out an apology to Leon, who accepted it as calmly and peaceably as he did everything else in his life. That was what Gwaine liked about Leon - his ability to be commanding and composed at every moment. To someone like Gwaine, who had an unfortunately short temper, Leon's steady tranquillity was a balm. And he loved Elyan's wicked sense of humour, and Percival's mischievous yet gullible nature which meant he let himself get dragged into any tricks Gwaine loved to play. And yet he had hurt all of them.

And not just them. Merlin too. In fact, Merlin was worse, and not just because Gwaine was ridiculously in love with him, but also because…because of _her._

So, even though he was able to warm to the other knights again on the trip back to Camelot, and sometimes even managed to forget what had happened and the things they had said to one another, he was utterly lost when it came to Merlin. He had murmured an apology to Merlin with the rest of the knights, but despite this words still got stuck in his throat whenever he found himself talking to the manservant.

Merlin, of course, had no problems whatsoever with forgiving the knights and moving on. He dealt even better with it than Gwaine had imagined he would - not once had he flinched away when one of the knights made a sudden movement towards him, and in fact he had had been more cheery to make up for the small, sombre moments the knights occasionally fell into during their conversations around the campfire. Whether it was because the Lamia was dead, or that Arthur was there and so Merlin felt safer, or it was just his instinctively trusting nature coming to the fore, Gwaine didn't know, but not once had Merlin made Gwaine or the others feel bad for what they had done. All guilt they felt, it was of their own design. And Gwaine felt it more than the others.

Merlin gave Gwaine his own space, for a bit, then he approached him. They were just about halfway back to Camelot and had camped for the night. They were taking the journey back to Camelot slowly, because none of the knights were entirely back to their old strengths. Gwaine had just fetched more firewood and was sitting around the campfire, brooding, when Merlin came and sat on the log next to him.

"Are you all right?" Merlin asked immediately. He never skipped around a subject with Gwaine, it was entirely useless. Gwaine was as direct a person as you could find.

Usually, anyway. Gwaine swallowed down the stuck words in his throat and said, "Of course. I'm always all right. You know that."

He had answered too quickly and had sounded too forced by far. He bit his tongue, irritated at himself for not being able to lie better.

Merlin shifted a little closer. Gwaine had to dig his nails into his palms to stop himself running away.

"Gwaine," Merlin said, more softly. "It's fine. I don't blame you. Any of you. You were all enchanted."

Gwaine couldn't speak. He shook his head instead. Merlin didn't understand, and he couldn't find the words to tell him.

"Gwaine," Merlin ventured. "Um, I - "

He shifted closer on the log. Gwaine found himself standing up before he could stop himself.

"I need to get more firewood," he said quickly.

Merlin's brow furrowed. "You just got the firewood," he said, but Gwaine had already grabbed his sword and was marching back into the thankfully silent dark of the woods. He could feel Merlin's eyes on him, but he didn't try to stop him.

* * *

 

Merlin was quieter on the rest of the ride back to Camelot, and he didn't try to make contact with Gwaine again. Gwaine was part relieved and part miserable, because now he was even less distracted from his memories. Their party, when they reached Camelot, was a mess of emotions, and everyone collapsed back into their routines with transparent thankfulness. Gwaine was right in that the other knights quickly reformed their bonds thanks to their shared lives; Gwaine made a valiant effort, but was still unable to quite recover at the same rate as them.

The other knights didn't have the dreams he had.

He bumped into Merlin three days into their return from Camelot - literally, because Merlin never looked round corners before charging at them, and so often ended up in a tangle with _someone_ …but, of course, this time it just had to be Gwaine.

"Oops," Merlin said, grinning, once they'd finished groaning and picking themselves off the floor. "Sorry. Got to do something about that habit."

Another time Gwaine would have laughed or cuffed Merlin around the back of the head. This time he nodded and avoided eye contact, feeling suddenly nervous. Merlin's eyes rested on him, and Gwaine could feel the worry practically radiating off him.

"How are you doing?" Merlin asked.

He was standing right in Gwaine's way, so Gwaine couldn't get past him without shoving him and the thought of doing that made him feel sick to his stomach.

He scratched his head awkwardly. "Fine," he said.

"Right," said Merlin, also uncomfortable. "Listen, I've got this evening off - Arthur's going on a _date_." He said the last word as if he were saying _plague._ "Maybe we could go to the tavern."

Horror struck Gwaine, cold and deep and unshakeable. Merlin, and alcohol, and those memories - "Uh. No," he said. "I mean, I don't really feel like it, sorry."

He didn't have to be looking directly at Merlin to see him deflate. "Oh," he said. "Right, then."

"I have to go," Gwaine said, desperately hoping Merlin would get the hint and move aside.

He did, but slowly. "Gwaine," he said, and his voice was so despairing that it pulled at something deep inside Gwaine, and he looked up and met Merlin's gaze for the first time in ages.

It was concerned, as Merlin's gaze often was, but also penetrating. It felt so odd to be looked at as if Gwaine were a mystery that Merlin needed to unravel. He wondered if this was what he looked like whenever he looked at Merlin.

The air between them was thick with things unsaid and unwhispered secrets. Gwaine swallowed down the lump in his throat and fled Merlin's presence without another word.

* * *

 

Merlin avoided Gwaine after that for a few weeks, though Gwaine often saw him around the castle, mostly looking entirely miserable.

On week three, Leon sat Gwaine down. "Listen," he said as calmly as he said anything, "I just wanted you to know - we're all in this together, all right? We all did things we're ashamed of because of the Lamia. You can talk about this with us, Gwaine."

Gwaine nodded. "I know," he lied. "But I'm not really into the whole 'talking about my feelings' thing."

Leon looked like he didn't believe him, but he let it slide.

Halfway through week three, Elyan and Percival tricked Gwaine into going into the tavern. He left after ten minutes.

On week four, Arthur summoned him. His expression was thunderous when Gwaine walked into his chambers.

"My manservant," he said, without ceremony, "Is _moping._ "

Gwaine didn't really know what to say to this. "Oh," he said.

Arthur's expression - if it was possible - clouded even more. "Oh?" he said. " _Oh?_ Is that all you can say?"

Gwaine opened his mouth but wasn't sure what to say, so he shut it again.

Arthur glared at him. "Let me elaborate," he said. "My manservant has been moping because a certain _idiotic knight_ of his acquaintance is avoiding him, and because of this he has been even more useless than normal, and _that_ , Gwaine, _that_ is a serious achievement!"

For the first time in a long time, Gwaine felt laughter bubble up inside him. That was one of the good things about Arthur, he could somehow cheer you up even when you were feeling your most miserable, just by being the usual insensitive idiot he always was.

"He put my laundry into the oven by accident," Arthur said sulkily. "The cook almost had a heart attack when she took out my shirt instead of a pie."

A laugh left Gwaine's mouth, but it sounded more like a sob than he thought it would. He clamped his mouth shut again, but the damage was done, Arthur's expression had softened a little.

"Look, I know how it is," he said, and Gwaine bitterly promised himself that the next person he spoke to who said that he was going to _maim_. No one knew how it was, because no one had had Gwaine's life, and knew all the past pain that this experience with the Lamia had dredged up.

But then Arthur continued, and, for the first time in Gwaine's life, actually seemed to make sense. "I know what it's like," he said, "To have someone expect you to be something. People do that to me all the time, and they always have, because I am royalty. Sometimes it can be easily ignored. But sometimes, when it's someone like Merlin…"

Someone like Merlin, Gwaine thought. Yes, of course. Because Merlin was adorably earnest and utterly devoted, and terribly stubborn in that when he made up his mind about you, that was what you were in his eyes forever more. Merlin expected Gwaine to be noble and decent and a true knight, under all the drinking and general carousing. And that wasn't a bad thing, because Merlin's conviction was so strong that you found yourself getting carried along with it, and this was not a bad fate, at least not for Gwaine. Merlin's belief that Gwaine was a true knight was probably what had helped him actually become, if not a true knight, than at least a half decent one.

He remembered, suddenly, how Merlin spoke about Arthur, how he called him the 'Once and Future King' and would spout nonsense, usually when he had had a few too many tankards of ale, about prophecy, and destiny, and how Arthur would unite all of Albion. If Gwaine felt the pressure from Merlin to be the perfect knight, he couldn't imagine what Arthur felt.

He longed, briefly, for the old days when he had only just met Merlin and he could be anyone he wanted because Merlin wouldn't expect anything of him. Maybe he should have just left Camelot that first time he'd been banished, and not come back to save Arthur's life.

And then he thought of all the happiness he had felt since then, the friends he had made, the noble man he had finally become. He thought about Merlin's smile. Of course it was worth it.

"I think maybe I should go and talk to Merlin," he said quietly. He felt a little lighter than he had.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Please do. Before he accidentally washes my dinner or something equally moronic."

Gwaine smiled, and it was his first genuine smile for a long time. He wanted to thank Arthur, or say something like _don't listen to Merlin's nonsense - be what you think you will be_ , or something equally as encouraging, but then he realised any advice like that could be also discouraging, might suggest that he didn't have faith in the king's greatness. Plus, maybe Merlin would be right after all.

He left without saying anything, and wondered afterwards if that had been the right thing to do.

* * *

 

Gaius raised an eyebrow at Gwaine when he shuffled shamefacedly into his chambers, but made no other comment. Gwaine, on his part, froze in the doorway and said, "I. Um. Is Merlin here?" He felt like a naughty child, wilting under Gaius's stare.

Gaius looked at him silently, but before he could answer, the door of Merlin's bedroom opened and he emerged, his head in some dusty book.

"Gaius, did you know there are 22 different ways to - " he started, but then Gaius cleared his throat loudly and Merlin started, looking up over the top of his book.

Their eyes met.

"Oh," said Merlin. Gwaine suddenly realised that he hadn't seen him for two weeks and hadn't spoken to him for over three.

"Hello," he said.

Merlin shut the book and hid it behind his back in a strangely guilty move. He rested a hand on his bedroom doorknob but made no other movement, either to open it and invite Gwaine in or shut it irrevocably in his face.

There was a small, awkward silence. Gwaine shifted nervously, feeling uncomfortable under Gaius's gaze. "Can we talk?" he asked.

Merlin's grip on his doorknob tightened so hard that his knuckles went white, but his facial expression didn't change. "All right," he said after a pause.

Gwaine gestured to outside Gaius's chambers with his head. Merlin clattered down the rest of his bedroom steps and followed him, pressing the book into Gaius's hands as he went without even looking at him.

They wandered the castle corridors silently for a while. It was a quiet night, approaching the end of the week, so most of the places they went past were empty, but Gwaine ignored them. He wasn't sure where he was heading, and decided to aim for his room. Merlin walked beside him, as silent as Gwaine was, though he shot a few worried looks at Gwaine as they went.

Gwaine decided on the fly, two corridors away from his room, to stop. The corridor he stopped in was empty and unlit, light from the stars pouring in through the windows onto the stone walls opposite. It felt cold and unwelcoming. Gwaine sat down awkwardly on the nearest stone bench, his back to the windows. Merlin joined him silently; Gwaine watched their shadows, framed by the silver starlight, flicker darkly against the wall opposite them.

He knew what to say, but he didn't know where to start.

Merlin jogged his arm a little. "Gwaine," he said quietly, "What is going on?"

Gwaine swallowed and looked down at his hands. "It wasn't just the Lamia," he said. "Not for me. Not like for the others."

He could feel the concern radiate off Merlin, but his voice was gentle when he spoke. "What else was it?"

Gwaine's hands started to shake; he glared at them fiercely and clenched them into fists, but they would not stop. Gwaine's hands, otherwise so steady, unfailing, never missing a trick in battle. They were hands he could usually rely on, but apparently not today.

Merlin laid a hand against one of Gwaine's, so softly that his fingertips felt like butterfly wings against Gwaine's knuckles. He said nothing, which was good because Gwaine thought for a moment that he might cry.

He said, instead, "When my father died and the king left my mother penniless…she…she married again. She had to. There were five of us and she had nothing. Her new husband was rich, but he wasn't…he wasn't nice. Not at all. He was a monster. He believed in the hierarchy of nobles and servants. He believed a woman should be under a man. He used to hit the servants. He used to hit her."

He swallowed and kept going, ploughing on. "I was young, young enough to be influenced by him. My sister was younger, and she was worse, she idolised him. Maybe she was replacing our dead father with him, I don't know. But she took everything he said on board, everything, all his rubbish about people needing to know their place, never rising above their stations or they had to be beaten down…he was a bit like Uther like that."

Merlin's hand twitched on Gwaine's but he said nothing.

Gwaine sighed. "After years of it, my older brothers grew up and started working, and my mother plucked up the courage to leave him. We had to flee in the middle of the night and we ran for weeks and weeks, that was how terrified she was of him. He didn't find us, but the damage was already done for my sister. Our whole family has short tempers and snobby natures and she…she let it get out of hand. I hated her. She was so sure she was right, when everything she said sounded wrong to me. So as soon as I could, I left home. I suppose you could say I ran away."

He paused. Merlin's fingers were still gentle on his. "I kept running," he said. "I've only stopped now, really."

There was a small pause. "And the Lamia," Merlin said finally, "It reminded you of him."

"Not just him." Gwaine looked at Merlin, for the first time in his ramblings. "I told you he influenced me too. You can't be around someone like that and not take on some of their aspects. When you are a child, and they are an adult in charge. When you take everything they say as gospel because you know no different. Look at Arthur, look at how he always wanted to make Uther proud, even though he was always leagues better than him. When…when I get angry, when I lose my temper…I _feel_ him there, Merlin, in the back of my mind, telling me to do these terrible things. I can hear my sister egging me on. And I - I try so hard to ignore them - all the time, ever since I left them, I try so hard and I - "

He ran out of words, and sat in silence, but Merlin had grasped the gist of the problem as wisely and rapidly as he always did.

"And so with Leon," he said. "And the others, and me…"

"It was worse with you," Gwaine said miserably. "That man - and my sister - they hated servants most of all. They treated them so badly, and I never wanted…and you are very…important to me."

Merlin's fingers squeezed his hand. "But this is brilliant," he said.

Gwaine stared at Merlin; his eyes were sparkling, a smile stretching over his face. "Excuse me?" Gwaine said, nonplussed.

"You've been looking at this all wrong," Merlin said. "Gwaine, you weren't the worst behaved in that Lamia situation at all. Leon was positively foul. In fact, if I had to describe how you acted towards me, I would say you were…restrained. Don't you think so?"

Gwaine was speechless, remembering the scuffle they had had over getting more firewood, when Elyan was injured and they and Gwen were trapped in a little room in the abandoned castle.

"So, you see," Merlin continued, "You were resisting even then. Even when you were enchanted."

"I," Gwaine said. "Um."

Merlin's hands lifted and pressed to either side of Gwaine's head. His eyes were even bluer in the silver light, if that was possible. Like wild oceans, Gwaine thought dizzily.

"Gwaine," he said, smiling. "Even if you don't agree with me on the Lamia, you must see that you are nothing like your sister at all. It's not what you think, it's what you do. We all think terrible things at times. Dark things. Everyone does. But it's our choices that separate us from each other. And you've made the right choice every time." His smile transformed into a mischievous grin. "How else could you have ended up being a knight for the best kingdom in the world?"

Gwaine, despite himself, smiled. "I think you might be a little biased there," he said.

Merlin's let go of Gwaine's face and his hand returned to Gwaine's, squeezing it. "Maybe a little," he said. He looked over at Gwaine again. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," said Gwaine.

"Do you believe me?"

"Not entirely," Gwaine said grudgingly.

Merlin smiled, as if he expected this. "Give it time," he said. He raised his hand, entangled in Gwaine's, and held it to his lips. "Because you are brilliant, Sir Gwaine," he said, and pressed a kiss to the back of Gwaine's hand.

Gwaine was momentarily so taken aback by the wave of affection he felt for Merlin that he could say nothing. He stared at his kissed hand until he could find his voice again. "You're not so bad yourself," he said at last.

It was _pathetic_ , but Merlin grinned all over his face.

"You say that," he said, "But Arthur would disagree with you. Especially lately."

Gwaine felt a stab of guilt. "You've had things on your mind," he said awkwardly. "Merlin, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Merlin said cheerfully. "Now I can tell Arthur I was right after all."

"Oh?"

"Yes, knights really _are_ all stupid."

"You - " Gwaine started in mock outrage, but Merlin had already leapt up and was fleeing down the corridor. Gwaine - naturally - jumped to his feet and darted after him, yelling and laughing, and they spent the rest of the evening chasing after each other, hiding behind pillars and swapping shouted insults throughout the whole castle, like children.

Gwaine felt lighter than he had for weeks.

* * *

 

Like with the death of Lancelot, this brief happiness did not last, and this time it was extinguished by the _return_ of Lancelot. Gwaine was never quite sure of the facts of the matter, but as far as he knew, Arthur had caught Gwen and Lancelot getting together behind his back, and now Lancelot had killed himself out of shame, Gwen was banished and the wedding was off.

"What a load of rubbish," he said to Merlin as they hung around the throne room and supervised the removal of several tons of flowers.

Merlin shot him a glance. Gwaine shrugged. "Gwen would never commit such a blatant abuse of trust like that. She's not that sort of person. She's deeply loyal. If she loves Arthur, then she wouldn't commit adultery against him. Even if she was in love with Lancelot. She would remain loyal to Arthur."

Merlin stared at him. "But Arthur caught them. Gwen admitted it. All the evidence is against her."

"I don't give two figs for evidence," Gwaine said stubbornly. "I know Gwen, like you do. Do you think she would do such a thing?"

Merlin hesitated. "No," he agreed. "But what else could it be?"

"I don't know," Gwaine said. "But I'm sure there was something else going on."

Arthur walked into the throne, looking abjectly lost. He didn't appear to notice them at all.

"If I was king, I'd take people's personalities into more consideration than Arthur does," Gwaine murmured.

"I think in this case he wasn't thinking straight," Merlin said miserably. He'd been acting like a wilting flower since Gwen had been banished, and Gwaine suddenly realised that he wasn't just sympathising with Arthur's plight, but was also missing Gwen on his own terms as well. They had been old, close friends.

Arthur was staring at the departing flowers with a stricken expression.

"I'd better go to him," Merlin said.

Gwaine wanted to squeeze Merlin's hand, or kiss him, but they were in public. He gave Merlin a little nudge instead.

"Hang in there," he said.

Merlin flashed him a mirthless smile. "I always do," he said, and went to join Arthur.

* * *

 

Morgana descended on Camelot again, this time during the feast of Beltane, and before Gwaine knew what was happening, Merlin and a rather oddly behaved Arthur were fleeing Camelot, and he was staying behind with the others to give them the time to escape. The fight was short but dramatic, and then he, Gaius and Elyan were all thrown into the dungeons together.

It was not as boring a period as time as Gwaine had first thought it would be, because Morgana hauled him out of the prison as often as possible in order to fight off her henchmen with wooden swords, or a handful of needles, or once with nothing at all. He got bread for Gaius though, and he got a good workout, so it wasn't all bad.

It was only when they had escaped, overthrown Morgana and were back to normal that the nightmares started.

They were more vivid nightmares than Gwaine had ever had about anything before, and usually consisted of him losing against the henchmen, and being forced to endure their torture in painstaking detail. The dreams were so precise, so horrible, that he often wondered whether Morgana had planted them in his mind as a parting gift. Either way, they came to him every night.

He didn't appear to be the only one suffering either. Arthur was clearly fretting about the fate of Morgana, but Merlin…Merlin was a whole other matter. The first week after the attack, Gwaine didn't think he saw him smile once. Not that anyone seemed to notice, it was just him.

Sometimes he thought he always noticed everything about Merlin, while Arthur noticed nothing.

He gave more credit to Arthur, though, for paying more attention to Merlin than he had done so before. He was sure it was mostly due to the revelation that Agravaine was, after all, in league with Morgana, but there were other reasons too. Arthur told them the story that Merlin had related to him about the sword in the stone around dinner, the first night after their escape.

"Believe it or not," he finished, "Merlin was right." And he shot a small smile at Merlin, who stood behind him.

Merlin forced a smile in return. Gwaine stared at him. The tale had been the biggest lot of nonsense that he had ever heard, clearly made up on the fly by Merlin, who did not have much imagination in these matters. But someone had plunged a sword into a stone, and someone had ensured that Arthur could pull it out again…

He frowned, remembering something that he had vaguely forgotten, about a moment he had witnessed before Arthur's coronation. Arthur had been standing nervously by the doors of the throne room with Merlin, waiting for his entrance, and Gwaine had only caught a smattering of their conversation as he entered the throne room ahead of them.

"…don't think I can do this," he had heard Arthur say, tremulously, plagued by sudden nerves.

Merlin, who was straightening the front of Arthur's cloak, had replied promptly, "Of course you can." He had smoothed a bit of the red fabric down and then said, " _We_ can."

Arthur had blinked at him. Merlin had returned the gaze, and in that moment it had been clear to Gwaine that to them there was no one else in the world but each other.

"We can," Arthur had echoed quietly.

Merlin had nodded and smiled. "You know I will do anything I can for you."

"I know," Arthur had immediately replied.

"Good," Merlin had said, and stood back to give Arthur one last inspection. "Then _we can._ "

It could have been Gwaine's imagination, but he was almost certain that at one point during the ceremony, he had seen Arthur, quite unconsciously, mouth the words _we can_ to himself _._ But he had never been quite sure.

Somehow put a sword into a stone. Make up a story to get Arthur to somehow take the sword out again. All just to back up his confidence when it was low. It was definitely a plan stupid, overcomplicated and loveable enough to be Merlin's.

Gwaine turned his head away and sipped his drink, wondering if he'd just cracked a little bit more of Merlin's mysterious exterior.

* * *

 

The nightmares plagued him, even when everything else seemed to fall back into its old patterns. Even the returned Gwen being made Queen didn't seem to change the dynamic of the castle much. After all, to Gwaine she had always been princess material.

He resumed his old life of training, quests, drinking and stalking Merlin. The last item seemed more difficult to do these days, though it was not through the fault of Merlin or Gwaine. But the meetings they had were brief and hurried, and often they were too busy speaking of something of importance to do anything else. The nights with them watching the stars on Camelot's castle roof, or lying around talking about everything and nothing, seemed to be long gone. Merlin always seemed troubled these days, and it was making Gwaine wonder if there was something else Merlin had done during the struggle to return Arthur to his throne. Something worse than somehow getting a sword into a stone. Something darker.

He reverted to his old solution to the problem of a troubled Merlin, which was to seduce him.

This involved a lot of loitering around the castle in his most attractive garb waiting for Merlin to show up, and got him several bemused looks. These mostly came from Percival, who had formed the opinion that Gwaine was up to no good with the castle's maids and got all hot and bothered trying to work out which one Gwaine could possibly be after, which one he showed the most affection for. He was forced to conclude, after a lot of agonising, that Gwaine was after all of them, and as a result they had an embarrassing conversation in the tavern with Percival trying to convince Gwaine that this was not knightly behaviour and Gwaine trying to convince Percival that he had got _completely_ the wrong end of the stick.

Still, it was worth the hassle, because Gwaine eventually managed to ambush Merlin in their old corridor, carrying a plate of food to Arthur's chambers.

He checked himself, unlaced the laces on his shirt so that it showed more of his chest, then turned the corner and flashed Merlin his best, most flirtatious grin.

"Ah," he said. "Merlin."

Merlin looked up from the plate of food, caught sight of Gwaine and stalled completely.

"Agh," he said.

Gwaine swaggered up to Merlin, grinning. Merlin's eyes flicked unconsciously to his loosened shirt laces.

"What've you got there?" Gwaine asked, letting his voice fall a few notes lower than usual.

"Uh," Merlin said, eyes still on Gwaine exposed chest. "Um, just." He looked up at Gwaine. Gwaine smirked at him. Merlin's eyes went a little glazed. "Arthur's lunch," he breathed.

Gwaine smiled. "Oh, I think that can wait, don't you?" he said. He reached forward and took the plate, making sure his fingers brushed pointedly against Merlin's. Merlin jumped so violently it was lucky Gwaine was holding the plate at that point. He moved it safely to one of the window ledges and swooped towards Merlin.

"I, uh," Merlin said, and backed away. Gwaine steered him until his back hit one of the corridor walls, then planted his hands either side of Merlin's head and leaned in. Merlin stared at his mouth, apparently unable to speak.

"Something you want to say, Merlin?" Gwaine teased gently. He was so close he could feel the warmth of Merlin's breath on his lips, and suddenly decided it had been far too long since he had done this.

"No," murmured Merlin, and Gwaine kissed him.

It got hot and heavy almost immediately; Merlin's hands curled themselves into Gwaine's shirt and he thrust his tongue into Gwaine's mouth, biting down on Gwaine's bottom lip and making him groan. They pressed themselves into each other so that Gwaine could feel Merlin's body from top to toe against his, hot and insistent.

After a while, he was faintly aware of someone yelling Merlin's name, someone who wasn't him.

Merlin pulled away.

" _Merlin!_ " Arthur bellowed from his chambers down the corridor.

"Damn," Merlin said.

"Don't you dare," Gwaine threatened, but Merlin was already pushing him away, grimacing with regret.

"Sorry," he said.

"You _will_ be!" Gwaine retorted, but he sounded weak even to his own ears, and all it did was make Merlin smile. He kissed Gwaine lightly, then ducked away from him when Gwaine tried to deepen the kiss and scooped up the plate of food from the window ledge, making a run for it.

He glanced behind him when he was sure he was far enough way to ensure escape. Gwaine glared at him from where he had smacked his head against the wall. Merlin flashed him his best pacifying smile.

"See you tonight," he said, and left.

Gwaine groaned into the wall.

* * *

 

Gwaine was into the tavern as quickly as possible after training, downed a tankard of ale, then drank the second one at normal human speed. He felt even more aggravated than his sexual frustration could allow for, and wondered if the nightmares and the interrupted nights of sleep, those long hours of cold remembrance, had finally caught up with him.

He was halfway through a drunken game of poker with some other knights when Merlin finally came in.

Their eyes met.

"Fold," Gwaine said, and laid down his cards and stood up. They walked straight towards each other, and it was only Merlin's hesitation at his end that stopped Gwaine from losing his head and grabbing hold of him right in front of everyone.

"Not here," he said.

"Fine," said Gwaine, and seized his arm, hauling him out of the tavern's side door and into the tiny alley behind it.

"Gwai - " Merlin started, but Gwaine was busying himself with pushing Merlin against the alley wall and kissing him as if his life depended on it. Merlin gasped and then arched into Gwaine, throwing his arms around Gwaine's shoulders and digging his nails into Gwaine's neck.

"Yes," Merlin said when they broke apart for air, but didn't seem to realise he was talking. "Gwaine - _yes_ \- "

Gwaine cast a quick look around the alley. It was deserted and almost empty, but for a selection of bins, a large ledge and a full water butt beside it. He grabbed Merlin's hips.

"This way," he said, and pushed him towards the ledge. Merlin hopped up onto it easily and dragged Gwaine towards him, resuming their kissing. Gwaine pushed Merlin's legs apart and moved in between them, crushing their erections together. Merlin gasped, kissed him, then gasped again when Gwaine thrust against him.

"Please," he said, and Gwaine reached for the waistband of Merlin's trousers, pulling them down without ceremony. Merlin groaned and spread his legs further, and Gwaine reached for the water at the top of the water butt, thanking all the gods that had ever existed that it was there.

He thrust two wet fingers into Merlin before he could think about it, then regretted it a little, but Merlin's yelp was more of pleasure than pain, and he was pushing against Gwaine so insistently that Gwaine threw caution to the winds and went with it, driving his fingers into Merlin.

Merlin threw back his head, gripping the edge of the ledge he was sat on with both hands and pushing into Gwaine's fingers. " _Yes_ ," he said, his Adam's apple bobbing hard as he swallowed. " _Gwaine._ "

It was quite nice to hear his name being shouted, Gwaine thought dimly. They usually weren't as loud in the castle, for fear of getting heard. He added another water-soaked finger, and bit down hard on Merlin's neck when he bucked into Gwaine's hold. He was so aroused he could barely breathe, let alone speak.

Merlin pushed against Gwaine's erection, reminding him of it, and he groaned and said something filthy, and felt Merlin's hands leave the ledge and fumble at his waistband. He moved away a little, letting Merlin pull his cock free from his trousers, then surged forward again, kissing Merlin and thrusting their now naked cocks together. He momentarily forgot about his fingers in Merlin, but then Merlin moved and he remembered and pulled his fingers out, while his other hand was busy lubing himself up with the water from the water butt.

Merlin instinctively shuffled backwards, Gwaine grabbed his hips and pulled them up and towards him, then drove his cock hard into Merlin with a shout. Merlin groaned and wrapped his legs around Gwaine, pushing into Gwaine's thrusts and soon they were rocking fiercely into each other, Gwaine with one hand braced against the alley wall and the other gripping Merlin's hip so hard he would leave bruises, and Merlin with both hands clenched in Gwaine's hair and his mouth against Gwaine's neck. He kept speaking, mostly repeating Gwaine's name over and over again, alternately loud and soft, but Gwaine stayed silent, dumb with desire. Then suddenly Merlin shuddered, shoved his body against Gwaine and came hard, shouting Gwaine's name and clenching against Gwaine's cock, and Gwaine gasped and came after him, biting into Merlin's shoulder.

The world slowly span back into focus. Gwaine realised it was actually quite cold and wet in the alley but both of these things had failed to register with him until now. He nuzzled quietly into Merlin's shoulder. He felt relaxed, his muscles losing tension he hadn't realised he was holding until now, but the shadows in his mind were still there.

Merlin's pounding heart gradually calmed against Gwaine's.

"We should go," Gwaine murmured against Merlin's bitten neck. "I think most of Camelot must have heard you shouting my name."

He heard Merlin giggle a little with embarrassment, but he didn't move. "Where shall we go?" he asked.

A wave of fatigue swept over Gwaine, unnoticed until now. "My chambers," he said.

"All right then," replied Merlin. "Let's go."

Neither of them moved. Gwaine grinned into Merlin's neck. Merlin threw back his head and laughed, and he sounded so carefree, so untroubled that Gwaine felt his chest drop with relief. "Come on, Gwaine!" he said.

"Comfortable," Gwaine protested, and buried his face into Merlin's neck. Merlin squirmed away, and when Gwaine grudgingly raised his head, he saw he was smiling widely, from ear to ear. Gwaine's heart lifted, as it always did when faced with that smile.

"Come on then," he said, and pulled away, and they shyly rearranged themselves back to normal appearance.

* * *

 

Gwaine's feet felt so heavy by the time they got to his chambers that he could barely walk, and he dropped onto his bed gladly. Merlin surveyed him with what Gwaine internally called his 'physician's gaze'.

"You don't look well," he said.

"Don't look so good yourself," Gwaine slurred, though secretly he thought Merlin looked eminently fuckable, with his cheeks still a little pink from the exertion and his hair all ruffled and sticking out every which way.

Merlin frowned and leaned forward, resting his hands on Gwaine's shoulders. "Have you been sleeping?" he asked.

"Not much," Gwaine admitted, but couldn't bring himself to say much more, to put the nightmares into words.

Merlin's hand gently brushed the skin under Gwaine's eyes. Gwaine leaned instinctively into his touch.

"Let's sleep," Merlin said.

* * *

 

Gwaine managed probably about three hours of sleep before the dream of Morgana repeatedly stabbing into him with a thin, long knife shook him into wakefulness. He realised he was curled around Merlin's back, his face pressed into Merlin's hair and his arm slung comfortably around his waist. He also realised Merlin was awake, because he was silently tracing patterns onto Gwaine's knuckles with his fingers. He sighed and gently nuzzled the back of Merlin's neck.

"All right?" he murmured. Merlin hummed in reply, and Gwaine felt himself beginning to drop off again, when Merlin spoke unexpectedly.

"Gwaine," he said.

"Hmm?" Gwaine muttered.

There was a small pause. "If I told you," Merlin said slowly, "That I'd done something…bad. Something really bad. But that I'd done it to keep Arthur safe, to keep Camelot safe…would you - would you still be my friend?"

The last bit was said so quietly that Gwaine only just caught it. He considered asking for more details, prising just what was bothering Merlin out of him, but then remembered what he had promised himself at Lancelot's funeral. He would not ask questions, he would just trust that Merlin was right and help him in any way he could.

"Merlin," he said honestly. "Whatever you do, I will always be your friend."

Merlin's fingers on Gwaine's knuckles stopped. He felt Merlin stiffen a little, and then he said, "Thank you," and his voice was so loaded with emotion that Gwaine felt a rush of tenderness for him, and squeezed him closer.

This time, when he fell asleep, the nightmares did not return.

* * *

 

He woke just after dawn to Merlin's eyes gazing at him. He had propped himself up on the pillow and was watching Gwaine's face in the early golden sunlight, a little smile playing around his face.

"Good morning," he said.

Gwaine wished, suddenly and fiercely, that he could wake up to this exact situation every day. "Good morning," he replied as casually as he could.

Merlin's expression grew a little more mischievous. "I've been plotting," he said.

Gwaine felt instantly more awake. "Oh?"

"Mm-hmm," Merlin hummed, and leaned down to nibble at Gwaine's neck. "I thought we could run away."

Gwaine tried to think through the fog of arousal currently inhabiting his mind. "Run away?" he breathed.

Merlin moved back, ignoring Gwaine's sulky pout. "Just for today," he said. "Grab some food, go for a ride. What do you think?"

Gwaine stared at him. "What about Arthur?" he asked.

Merlin shrugged. "What about him?"

Gwaine felt like Merlin had set light to every vein in his body. He had to restrain himself from dragging Merlin into a deep kiss, or from smiling too widely.

"I thought we might need a bit of a break," Merlin was saying through Gwaine's haze of utter happiness. "Of course if you'd rather train…"

He left it hanging. Gwaine beamed at him. "You get the food," he said. "I'll get the horses."

They were out of the castle before most of its residents had even stirred.

* * *

 

They settled down at a river a few leagues away from Camelot and any nearest town. There was no one around, it was peaceful and absolutely beautiful. They sat on the bank and snacked on their stolen food and swapped jokes and a few kisses, and Gwaine felt happier than he ever had in his life before. He taught Merlin how to skip stones on the river and Merlin taught him about different herbs and which berries were poisonous, and they swapped notes about their favourite of the cook's pies and gossip about other Camelot servants.

They got more quieter and more contemplative when the sun started setting. Gwaine was lying back, staring at the tree tops and nibbling on some dates when Merlin said, quietly, "I suppose you're wondering what it was I did."

Gwaine glanced at him. Merlin elaborated. "I mean, what I was talking about last night."

Gwaine sat up. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"I know." Merlin met his gaze. "I know that. I…appreciate it. But, still. I think I should tell you."

Gwaine tried not to look too eager. "If you want to."

Merlin looked at him briefly, then looked away, pulling at the grass around his feet. "I killed Agravaine," he said.

Gwaine was shocked into silence.

Merlin continued, haltingly, "He followed us into the caves. I couldn't let him catch us, so when I went back…I saw him there, and I…I couldn't let him kill Arthur."

He glanced at Gwaine, to try and gauge his reaction. Gwaine scratched his chin, thinking.

"I understand," he said finally.

Merlin paused. "You do?" He sounded disbelieving.

Gwaine smiled humourlessly at Merlin. "Merlin, I'm a knight. It's not all feasts and nice cloaks. My job is to defend Camelot. Killing if necessary."

Merlin relaxed a little. "Arthur doesn't know," he said. "I don't know what he thinks happened to Agravaine."

"I won't say a word," Gwaine promised.

Merlin's hand sneaked into Gwaine's, and squeezed his fingers. "Gwaine," he said, "I know that you…that you feel affection for me. I'm grateful."

Gwaine snorted. "I wouldn't call it _affection_ ," he said.

Merlin stiffened a little, his fingers going cold in Gwaine's. "Oh," he said.

"No," Gwaine said, looking away, "I'd say I love you."

There was a long silence. Gwaine glanced up. Merlin was staring at him with wide, wet eyes, looking absolutely stricken.

"It's fine," Gwaine said, "I know you don't - I mean - but it's fine that you don't - I mean…" He trailed off, cursing himself inwardly for being so rubbish at expressing himself.

Merlin's fingers squeezed Gwaine's but he didn't say anything, he certainly didn't say what Gwaine hoped he would.

Behind them, the sun set in silence.


	8. Pasts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I return! With a very Gwaine-centric chapter. The next chapter will be very much about Merlin though. I hope you enjoy, and thank you for reviewing!
> 
> This chapter is set in between the end of series 4 and the beginning of series 5. I suspect that when I tackle series 5, it will go a little - if not a lot - AU. Because they could have used Gwaine so much better in series 5...

* * *

_Merlin's fingers squeezed Gwaine's but he didn't say anything, he certainly didn't say what Gwaine hoped he would._

_Behind them, the sun set in silence._

* * *

 

Somehow a year and a half passed without Gwaine really noticing it, until it was almost time for the two year anniversary of Arthur's coronation and he realised he had been in Camelot longer than he had ever been anywhere else for years. It was home now, every street strikingly familiar, every face a friend. He had his favourite tavern, his favourite walk, his favourite rides. He had somehow finally settled into his role as a knight, though he had only realised this during a conversation he had had with Arthur during a training session about three months ago.

"Do you know what the people call you?" Arthur asked him, as they sat down after a fierce bout of fighting and watched others take their places. "They call you the People's Knight."

Gwaine frowned at him. "Is this some jibe about me spending too much time in the tavern?"

Arthur shrugged light-heartedly. "That probably has something to do with it. But it also means you are the knight the people of Camelot feel the closest to. They feel that, out of all the knights, they could come to you with a problem and you would be the most likely to listen to them. You are the common people's protector. Their defender, their voice in the court."

Gwaine sat and considered this.

"I think they're right," Arthur said. "Don't you?"

Gwaine said nothing, but thought about it for a long time. It was true that he seemed to spend more time getting to know the other servants in the castle than the other knights did, that he followed their lives more closely, and he certainly knew the regulars in the tavern very well indeed. And yes, a lot of his spare time he spent in the lower town visiting people, either dropping in to say hello and offer a few supplies, or staying for dinner and long, drunken conversations. He liked the lower town, it reminded him of his life before he had settled in Camelot, when he had just been one in a crowd, unimportant and anonymous. He liked it when his status as a knight was ignored by those around him, and felt uncomfortable when it was not.

Sir Gwaine, the People's Knight. He liked the sound of it.

And if he was going to be a knight of anywhere at any time, he was sure Camelot right now was the best time for it. Arthur, although uneasy at first, had then slipped effortlessly into his role as king, and after a while Gwaine realised he had almost forgotten the days when Arthur was a prince. He had always been destined to be king, of course, but it seemed more than that. Maybe he had been a king all along, even in those early days. Arthur was a spoilt, stubborn, insensitive prat, but he was also fair and just, and sometimes his new opinions on age-old royal laws and issues of state were practically revolutionary. There were times when Gwaine looked at Arthur and could almost believe Merlin's ramblings that he would unite the land once again. If anyone could do it, Arthur, with his deep sense of righteousness and his willingness to take on other people's opinions, could do it. That charisma that he and Merlin shared, that belief that they could do great things, that pull that made you want to run along with them for the journey, it was still there and it was getting stronger than ever.

Gwaine had always thought that a strong king would make for a strong Merlin, since their lives were so intertwined, but as time went on it seemed that the stronger Arthur got, the weaker Merlin got. The Merlin of old, who would cheerfully get involved in tavern brawls and run around the castle creating havoc, appeared all but gone completely. All that bright confidence seemed somehow dimmed. He didn't even smile that much anymore, and when he did, it was never quite the same as it had been. Gwaine knew, though he suspected no one else even noticed, that there was something on Merlin's mind, something even darker and deeper than murder. It was that secret, Gwaine knew, that unnameable secret, and whatever it was was dragging him silently into the dust. Gwaine could try everything, but it was obvious there was nothing he could to stop it.

So he did the only thing he could, which was carry on and ignore it happening. He was the People's Knight, but before even that, he was Merlin's Knight. So he carried on being charmingly obnoxious and attention-seeking and fun, and Merlin got dragged along with him, sometimes willingly, sometimes not. All Gwaine could do was hope that it helped him, at least a little.

Plus, the sex was always good.

* * *

 

A few months before Arthur's two-year anniversary of his coronation, a gathering of people turned up at the castle. They claimed to be lords and ladies from King Lot's kingdom, in the north, who had replaced Cenred when Morgause had killed him. Arthur admitted them to Camelot, and went away to talk with them for a long time.

Gwaine was summoned later that evening to the room with the round table, to find it was only he, Arthur, and the visitors from Lot's kingdom there.

"Ah," Arthur said, as Gwaine entered. "Gwaine, there you are."

Gwaine blinked at Arthur; he seemed unsettled, a little distraught, though it was barely noticeable.

"My lords and ladies," said Arthur to the visitors. "Maybe I present Sir Gwaine."

Gwaine transferred his gaze to the visitors from Lot. They were all staring intensely at him.

"Oh yes," one said at last, an old, bearded man. "The resemblance is uncanny."

One of the ladies had clasped her hands to her throat. "Oh, he does," she said. "He does very well."

Gwaine felt, for the first time in a very long time, trapped. He wanted to run away, and was shocked by this old feeling. He glanced at Arthur.

"I'm afraid I don't know what this is about," he said tightly, and clasped his hands behind his back to stop them shaking.

"King Lot is dead," Arthur said bluntly. "He left no appointed heir behind him and - "

"And," the woman interrupted. "The kingdom is in ruin. Pretenders to the throne are appearing from nowhere and contesting for the throne. We have travelled to find a real heir, one to stop the disputation once and for all, before the land is torn apart with war."

The urge to flee tripled, but Gwaine bit it down. "I still don't see what this has to do with me," he said.

The woman smiled gently. "You are Lot's son," she said.

Gwaine felt like he had swallowed ice. He glanced hastily at Arthur, but Arthur said nothing, and Gwaine felt suddenly abandoned, lost. "My father," he said firmly, "Was a knight in Caerleon's army. He died serving him."

"That man was not your father," the old man said. "Your father was King Lot. He visited your mother briefly during a campaign near your birthplace and they conceived you."

It was suddenly difficult to breathe. "That's not true," Gwaine said.

"We have witnesses," the man said. "Those who met her, remembered her, knew of the bastard son - you. All Lot's legitimate heirs are dead. You are the only one of his bloodline left."

Gwaine dug his nails into the palm of his hands, clasped behind his back. "My mother wouldn't have done such a thing."

The woman quirked an eyebrow. "Really?" she said.

Gwaine felt a rising outrage, an instinctive urge to defend his mother, but underneath this was a low sinking feeling. His mother had always been flighty, impetuous. She got bored easily. It was lucky, Gwaine had sometimes reflected, that his father had died before she had had the chance to break his heart. And she always, always went for the wrong men. Just look at his step-father.

"She would have told me," he said, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew that wasn't true as well. She lied as well as she breathed, his mother.

"If the witnesses were not enough to secure your right to the throne, you yourself are," the man said, apparently blind to Gwaine's distress. "You are the spitting image of the king."

There was no air in the room, none at all.

"We need you," the woman said.

He needed to breathe. "Excuse me," Gwaine spluttered out, and then turned tail and ran for it.

He ran, he didn't know where. He strode through numberless corridors, his mind utterly blank, and only realised where he was when he found himself face to face with Gaius's front door.

He thought briefly about going back, but the thought of his room, dark and lonely, with nothing to distract him, shook him out of it. He knocked, and then entered.

Gaius's chambers were filled with a dim, amber light, and at one of the tables, bent over a bubbling beaker, was not only Gaius but Merlin as well. At the sight of Merlin, Gwaine felt suddenly steadier. He paused irresolutely in the doorway. Merlin and Gaius were intensely focused on whatever the beaker was doing, but both glanced up when the door opened.

Merlin's face split into a smile that was brighter than Gwaine had seen for a while. "Hello," he said.

Gwaine couldn't return the smile. He felt like he'd been hit around the head with a hammer.

Merlin's smile faded. "Gwaine, what is it?" he asked.

Gwaine said the first thing that came to mind. "I think I'm going to be sick," he said.

* * *

 

Merlin sat him down on a bench and took off his cloak for him, and Gaius presented him with a mug of hot tea and put a blanket around his shoulders, and ever so gently they teased the entire story out of Gwaine, bit by bit. It was quite difficult because every time Gwaine said Lot's name, he choked on it. But they got to the bottom of it in the end.

For a while, the three of them sat there in thoughtful silence. Then Gaius slowly got up and went to a pile of books nearby, rifling through them. Merlin reached sideways and squeezed Gwaine's hand while Gaius was distracted.

"It'll be all right," he said, "Even if it is true, you won't have to do anything you don't want to. Arthur will see to that."

Gwaine clung to Merlin's hand, probably a little too hard, but couldn't say anything. Gaius returned, and Merlin surreptitiously recovered his hand.

"Here," said Gaius, and presented the book to Gwaine, open on a certain page. On it was a well drawn picture of a man.

"That is King Lot," said Gaius.

It was like looking into a mirror. Gwaine stared blankly at the page, feeling his heart sink. Almost every feature of that man was the same as his. He had barely anything of his mother about him at all.

"Oh," he heard Merlin say softly beside him.

He slammed the book shut. "I need to know for sure," he said firmly.

There was a thoughtful pause. "You could write to your mother," Merlin suggested. "Ask her for the truth."

Gwaine snorted. "If she knew there was a kingdom up for grabs, she'd say anything, she's such a snob. Ugh." He pushed his face into his hands, wishing desperately that this was some cheese-fuelled nightmare. Maybe he'd wake up in a minute.

He didn't. Instead, Gaius said, "I would suggest that you invite your mother to Camelot. Make her tell you to your face. It is more difficult to lie when you are there in person."

"Definitely," Merlin said, in world-weary tones, but he did not elaborate.

Gwaine chewed on his lip. Even his mother didn't really have the guts to stand in front of everyone, the great King Arthur included, and lie outright. And he would be able to tell if she was. "It's possible," he said quietly. "Thank you, Gaius."

There was a silence. Gwaine realised suddenly that it was late, and he had burst into their quiet evening with his dramas without so much as a 'by your leave' and now that thing they had been watching bubble in the beaker had over-bubbled and turned a weird brown, and he could smell it from here.

"I should probably go," he said, hating the idea.

He felt Merlin and Gaius exchange a quick look over the top of his head. "Stay here for the night," Merlin said. "I think you should."

Gwaine reacted like he did with anything Merlin requested - he folded like a house of cards. "Thanks," he said.

Merlin squeezed his arm with one hand and smiled reassuringly. Gwaine wanted to collapse on his shoulder. Instead he stood and pulled his blanket around his shoulders, gave Gaius a warm nod and retreated to Merlin's room.

Merlin's room was smaller and even more cosy than Gaius's rooms had been, and it felt so quintessentially like _Merlin_ , with his laundry hung up at one end of the room and his randomly scribbled notes littered everywhere, that Gwaine was immediately soothed.

He slipped tiredly into Merlin's neatly made bed, bunching up the pillow under his head, and closed his eyes. Outside, he could hear Merlin and Gaius moving around, and could just catch what they were saying, despite the fact they were whispering.

"You do realise," Gaius said, "That if this claim turns out to be true, Arthur will want Gwaine to take the throne. An alliance between Lot's people and Camelot could help the land tremendously."

"But Gwaine doesn't want it," Merlin said softly. "Surely Arthur will have to consider that."

"He is a king and will have to make a king's decision, Merlin," said Gaius. "Not one as a friend."

There was a long pause. Gwaine realised his heart was thudding anxiously, and curled up in a ball in the bed. "I'm worried Gwaine will run away again," Merlin said at last, sounding odd. "I don't want him to go."

"Nor do we all," Gaius replied diplomatically.

There was silence. Gwaine closed his eyes and tried to calm his heart.

* * *

 

He must have dropped off, because he was woken a little later by Merlin blowing out the candle and crawling into bed beside him. He shifted slightly to give Merlin space.

"Sorry I woke you," Merlin murmured into the dark.

Gwaine twined an arm around Merlin's waist. "I won't go anywhere," he promised quietly.

Merlin's hand squeezed Gwaine's arm, but he said nothing. Gwaine fell asleep again.

* * *

 

To Gwaine surprise and horror, his hastily scribbled message to his mother was instantly replied to, with confirmation that she was coming to Camelot. Gwaine was torn between seeing this as a good sign or a bad sign and eventually decided on the latter. He spent the waiting week doing all his training wrong, getting no sleep and trying to avoid Lot's people as much as he could. This was difficult, because they seemed to be determined to observe him as much as possible, so he spent a lot of time in the lower town, staying with those whom he considered discreet friends, or in the tavern, getting outrageously drunk.

Merlin came and picked him up one drunken evening, after complaints from the landlord reached him. We he arrived, Gwaine was standing on the table and trying to lead the other patrons of the tavern into singing ruder and ruder songs with him. Merlin appeared in the doorway, put his hands on his hips, sighed, then went and helped the momentarily disheartened Gwaine off the table.

They somehow got back to Gwaine's room, though that part was a bit of blur to Gwaine. What he did remember was Merlin carefully helping him out of his clothes and lying him down in the bed, then perching on the edge of the mattress and stroking Gwaine's hair softly in the dim candlelight.

"It will be all right," Merlin told him quietly. "I promise, Gwaine. Everything will be all right."

Gwaine hummed tiredly. "Hope so. 'Cause I'd be a terrible king."

Merlin's smile flickered with the candlelight. "You'd be a fantastic king."

Gwaine snorted. "Did you just miss the part of this evening when I was dancing on a table?"

Merlin's hand was gentle in his hair. "Nevertheless," he said.

Gwaine felt his eyelids droop, soothed in a way he hadn't been for a while. "If I do end up as a king," he murmured, "Will you abandon Arthur and come and serve me?"

There was a long pause, the meaning of which Gwaine failed to properly grasp. Then Merlin's voice said, with an odd sadness, "Shut up, you," and he pressed a light kiss to Gwaine's forehead.

Gwaine fell asleep under the touch of Merlin's lips.

* * *

 

Before the week was up, Gwaine's mother arrived in Camelot. A messenger arrived with the news for him while he was training, and he hastily went to greet her. She was standing in the courtyard, talking to one of the stablehands about her horse. Gwaine hadn't seen her since he had become a permanent knight of Camelot, and the sudden sight of her made his heart twist uncomfortably.

She was tall and willowy in form, with a mass of silvery blonde hair that tumbled around a face which, to Gwaine, never seemed to age. She was flighty and selfish and snobby, but this was the woman who had birthed him. Who had cared for him, protected him, sung sweet lullabies to him when he couldn't sleep, kissed his hurts away. She had her faults, but she was his mother. He loved her dearly.

She smiled when she saw him, and held out her lily white hands in invitation. He ran into her arms, for all the world like he was five years old again.

* * *

 

An assembly containing the people of Lot's kingdom, the knights and Arthur was hastily formed. Gwaine and his mother stood outside the doors, waiting to be summoned. She would not tell Gwaine what she was going to say, but he could read it in her anyway.

"It's true, isn't it," he said.

She turned sad eyes on him. "Oh, my dear son," she replied softly, and pressed his hand to her lips, and then the doors opened and they were summoned in.

* * *

 

"What you say is true," Gwaine's mother said, looking Lot's people in the eye. "The King visited our village briefly during a war campaign. His soldiers were camped not far away. I saw him a few times, and we became close. My husband was away, fighting on the opposing team. It was the battle in which he died. The King and I loved one another. When he left, I discovered I was pregnant with Gwaine. So yes, it is all true. But because Gwaine was an illegitimate child, I did not think it would come to anything, so I stayed silent."

Lot's people nodded and glanced at one another. Arthur nibbled his lip. Gwaine watched his mother carefully as she spoke, but there was no need to. It was quite obvious she was telling the truth.

* * *

 

Arthur and Gwaine met later in his chambers to talk. Merlin was there in the background, silently polishing Arthur's armour. He looked more comfortable in Arthur's chambers than he did anywhere else in the castle, including his own room.

Arthur and Gwaine sat at his table and sipped at wine. "You don't have many of your mother's characteristics," Arthur said, to break the ice.

"He has her warm nature," Merlin argued mildly from across the room. "And her charm."

Gwaine's heart fluttered pathetically. He glanced over to where Merlin sat and smiled at him.

Arthur glared daggers at Gwaine, but all he said was, "Whatever. The question remains, do you think she is telling the truth?"

Gwaine hesitated. If he was another man, he could lie now, say he thought she was, and get away from this entire affair scot free. But he was Gwaine.

"Yes," he said. "I think she is."

Arthur pressed his lips together, but did not look surprised. "What do you want to do?" he asked.

Gwaine paused again. If ever he had a choice between delicacy and honesty, he only ever chosen one way. And Arthur had bothered to _ask_ his opinion.

"I know that you would like me to take up this offer," he replied bluntly. "If I succeeded in taking the throne, that would mean an unshakeable alliance between Lot's kingdom and Camelot. I know that this is what you wish for." He hesitated. "But I do not wish to leave," he decided. "Camelot is my home, and I haven't had a home for a very long time. I love being a knight of the Round Table. I would be loathe to give it up. I feel as though…as though I haven't _finished_ with it yet. In fact, I feel I have barely started. Do you understand?"

Arthur nodded slowly; behind him, Merlin, who had halted in his polishing, unconsciously did the same.

"Well then," Gwaine said, and realised he had no more to say. He wondered if he had been too frank, too honest, but he knew Arthur liked that sort of thing. He was not looking at Gwaine with any kind of scorn.

"It is a shame in more ways than that," Arthur said. "The people of Lot's kingdom suffer. I can think of no one better suited to help them than you. The People's Knight."

An odd ache, previously unnoticed, opened itself inside of Gwaine. He swallowed hard. "Someone else will help them," he replied more confidently than he felt. And since Arthur's expression was still understanding, he ventured to add, "I thought you might order me to go. An alliance - "

"Can be made in many different ways," Arthur interrupted. "Perhaps I will still be able to form an alliance with the man who does take Lot's throne. But I will not force any of my knights to do something they do not wish to do. That horror would not be wiped out even by the best of alliances."

Merlin was now looking at Arthur with undisguised admiration, but just this once Gwaine couldn't bring himself to feel jealous about this, because he knew he was too.

* * *

 

In a strange turn of events, Lot's people seemed to understand his reasons. He had been worried that they would think him selfish and decided they would be absolutely right in this judgement, because he was, but instead they seemed to see this as a good sign.

"You are a loyal man," the old man - who Gwaine had learnt was called Ejber - said. "You will not leave your duties if you do not feel they have been completed. These are marks of a great king."

Gwaine shook his head. "But not your king," he said.

Ejber smiled - if there was one thing Gwaine had learnt about him, it was that he was as stubborn as he was gentle. "Do not discount it yet," he said. "We shall not. There is always a time for everything."

He leaned forward and handed something to Gwaine; it was a ring, large and heavy, and on it was stamped a strange symbol, of a budding flower.

"That is the crest of the Lot family," Ejber said. "And as such, now belongs only to you. Keep it as a reminder of who you are."

Gwaine curled his hand around the ring, feeling suddenly choked up. He wanted to explain himself further, but wasn't sure he would be able to. "Thank you," he said.

Ejber bowed. "No, Sir Gwaine. Thank you. We have seen you with the people of this town. You have been called the 'People's Knight', and we agree with it. Camelot is lucky to have you."

"I think it's more like I'm happy to have it," said Gwaine, and they smiled at one another, and Lot's people left in peace.

* * *

 

His mother was less happy. "I did tell you the truth," she protested as he led her out into the courtyard a week later, back to her horse. "Don't you believe me?"

"Yes," Gwaine replied. "But in the end it doesn't matter."

This part was not strictly true. The knowledge that there was somewhere else other than Camelot where he would be welcome, where he belonged, had already helped his confidence no end. He kept the Lot ring around his neck with his other trinkets, and it felt warm on his chest.

"Of course it matters," his mother argued, as they stood by her horse. "Gwaine, think of the status - you, a king! And you still wish to be a mere knight?"

"Mother," said Gwaine, as he helped her up on her horse, "You are a terrible snob."

His mother glared down at him, but her sense of humour was not unlike Gwaine's, and she could never be angry with him for long. She smiled wryly. "You're not too old for a beating, you know," she retorted.

Gwaine snorted. "Leave me alone, mother."

"Cheerfully," she said, and then her stance softened a little. "Are you at least happy, Gwaine?"

Gwaine cast his mind over everything that had happened, over his life in Camelot. "Yes," he said. "Very."

His mother smiled at him, one last smile that was blinding in warmth, and then she kicked the horse into action, and Gwaine watched her gallop out of Camelot alone.

* * *

 

"So," Merlin said cheerfully, falling into step with Gwaine as he made his way through the corridors to the lower town later, "I suppose this means I'm still stuck with you?"

Gwaine smiled at him. "I'm afraid so."

Merlin sighed. "Great. More clumsy insults, pathetic mockery, picking you out of gutters…"

"Silence, pleb," Gwaine retorted, and swished back his hair. "I'll have you know I'm a king."

Merlin grinned. "The Gutter King," he said.

Gwaine glared at him. Merlin smiled innocently, and they both burst into laughter. They were still smiling when they reached the tavern, looking more like two ridiculous idiots than a simple knight and a king's manservant.

Gwaine only realised later, with a twist of sorrow, that that was exactly what they were.


	9. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: New chapter! I have now moved on to series 5 but WARNING: it will become an AU from now on, for reasons that will be obvious at the end of this chapter. Oh, and I apologise in advance for the cliffhanger! Merry Christmas! *evil cackle*
> 
> Spoilers for 5x01 and 5x02.

 

* * *

_Gwaine glared at him. Merlin smiled innocently, and they both burst into laughter. They were still smiling when they reached the tavern, looking more like two ridiculous idiots than a simple knight and a king's manservant._

_Gwaine only realised later, with a twist of sorrow, that that was exactly what they were._

* * *

In the end, it was Arthur who flicked the switch in Gwaine's head. It happened after their adventures in Ismere, when they were all back in Camelot and had slipped into their old routines, as they always did. They were on the training grounds, getting ready to return to the castle and chatting aimlessly. Arthur was once again regaling Percival and Leon with his tale of how he had reached Ismere.

"Of course _Mer_ lin was a coward as usual," he scoffed, with no real venom. "I swear, he's getting more and more paranoid with each day that passes - he kept telling me to give up the rescue and go home. Constantly."

Gwaine always remembered, for as long as he lived, the exact moment when his stomach lurched sickeningly. "What?" he said. "Merlin told you to abandon the rescue?"

Arthur heaved a bag of equipment onto his shoulder. "Oh yes," he said. "All the _bloody_ time. It was all he went on about. You know what he's like when he gets some stupid idea in his head."

And that was the moment when the penny dropped.

Gwaine spent the rest of the day like one in a daze, barely registering what was going on around him, and then in the evening he made his way to Gaius's chambers.

Gaius was in there, but not Merlin. Gwaine stared blankly at him when he greeted him.

"Where's Merlin?" he asked.

Gaius frowned. "He is still serving Arthur. Is everything all right, Gwaine?"

Gwaine shook his head. "I've been an idiot," he said, and left.

* * *

 

Merlin was in Arthur's room, busily polishing Excalibur. Arthur was not there. He looked up when Gwaine entered and smiled his customary, bright smile. That damn smile, Gwaine thought, had a lot to answer for. It was like looking into the sun, but instead of taking your sight, it took your thoughts. It stripped all your logic from you, all your common sense, and left you a dazed, foolish _idiot_.

"Hello," Merlin said cheerfully. "Percival was looking for you - he came in half an hour ago saying he was going to the tavern."

Gwaine stared dumbly at Merlin. How could he sit there like that, seemingly so relaxed, as if he had done nothing wrong, when he had done something so absolutely unforgivable to Gwaine?

Merlin stared at the silent Gwaine. "Are you all right?" he asked, in a slightly more wary manner.

Gwaine said the one sentence that had been whirling around inside his head all day. "You told Arthur not to go to Ismere," he said.

Whatever Merlin had thought Gwaine would say, it was not that. His expression switched to a mixture of relief and utter bemusement. "Oh," he replied. "Well, yes."

Said in such an offhand way, as if it was all par for the course. Which it was, of course. Oh, Gwaine had been such so _stupid_.

"You told Arthur not to go to Ismere," he repeated slowly. "You tried to persuade him to abandon the search. To give up rescuing us. Rescuing _me._ "

There was a long pause. Merlin gently placed Excalibur on the table, all traces of his previous smile gone. "I was protecting him," he said carefully, folding his hands in his lap. "He was in danger…"

"So you had a choice," Gwaine said, the words thick in his throat. "Protect Arthur and abandon me, or let Arthur go into danger and save me. And you chose Arthur. Like you always do."

Merlin blinked. "It's not…" he faltered. "I mean, it wasn't like that - "

"It was exactly like that," Gwaine argued blankly.

There was another long silence. Merlin stood up out of the chair slowly, still cautious. "Arthur's the king," he said slowly. "I was looking out for him. You know what it's like, you're a knight - "

"Yes," Gwaine interrupted, uncomfortably aware his voice was rising. "Yes, _I'm_ a knight. It's my _job_ to protect the king. But it's not yours, Merlin. You're just Arthur's manservant, and yet every single time you go far beyond your duty to him, to the destruction of everything else - "

"I don't," Merlin said, also louder if a little breathless, "I don't _destroy_ \- "

"You're destroying us!" Gwaine shouted.

Merlin flinched, like Gwaine had slapped him. Gwaine caught his breath, rocked back a bit. He was not going to get angry, he was not going to let himself go down that road. He could already his sister in his head, whispering vitriol into his ears.

"You tried to make him leave me to my fate," he said, when he had regained some of his calm again. "I have the right to know why. I deserve to know why I am always second best to a man who, as far as I can see, doesn't even think _half_ as much of you as I do."

For the first time, Merlin's expression crumpled a little. Gwaine watched his lower lip tremble for a moment, before he mastered himself.

"What is it about Arthur?" he asked, hearing desperation in his voice. "Please tell me, Merlin, because I don't understand."

Merlin stared at him with such a torn expression on his face that Gwaine almost succumbed. He had, after all, always promised himself that he would not force Merlin into anything, that he would simply trust him and listen to him like Arthur never did. But he had made that promise so long ago, he had gone through so much heartache since then, that he wasn't sure he could keep going now, he no longer seemed to have that strength. He was strong, he was always strong. But apparently not strong enough for this.

"Please, Merlin," he begged.

"I can't," whispered Merlin.

Gwaine's chest constricted; he tried to breathe through the pain. "Is it because you love him?" he asked.

"No," Merlin said instantly, and then hesitated. "Yes. But…but it's more complicated than that."

"Right." Gwaine took a deep breath to stop himself choking on the rising bitterness inside him. "So it's a mystery. Of course. It always is with you."

Merlin's expression crumbled again, and this time he couldn't seem to reassert himself. "Gwaine," he breathed, and wasn't able to continue.

"Merlin, I am tired," Gwaine replied, feeling his shoulders slump as he said it. "I am tired of competing in a contest that I cannot win. That I will never win. Because this is never going to change, is it?"

Merlin looked like he was trying everything to stop himself crying, and said nothing, but it was as good as a reply.

Gwaine marshalled himself. "I think it might be a good idea if we don't see each other for a while," he said, and immediately felt sick. The room was suddenly too close, the pain in Gwaine's chest too tight. He rushed for the door, but didn't get out of the room quick enough to miss Merlin's choked sob echo from behind him. He closed the door on the sound and leaned back against it, and bit his lip to stop himself crying, so hard that he could taste blood.

* * *

 

He didn't sleep. There didn't seem to be much point. He lay on his bed instead and stared up at the ceiling, and twirled the ring from Lot around his finger over and over. He could move there, he thought, and take the throne. He could be king…

He immediately discounted the idea. It would be running away, and that was no reason to become a king, just to escape. He knew in his heart that he would only be able to take that throne, and keep it, when he wanted to do it, and not for any other reason.

Years ago, he would have not thought this. He wouldn't have seen moving as running away, he would have just done it and made a mess of it and then moved on again. But that was before Camelot, and Arthur, and Merlin -

He dropped his hands onto his chest and tried not to think about him. Merlin, Merlin. What was he going to do without him?

He closed his eyes, but sleep would not come.

* * *

 

Arthur's expression was thunderous when Gwaine turned up to training that morning, and apparently not because he was late.

"What did you do?" he barked as a greeting. Gwaine set his jaw and didn't reply - he wasn't sure he was going to be able to deal with Arthur being an obnoxious prat today, not after everything. He moved silently out of Arthur's way, but Arthur stepped deliberately into his path.

"Gwaine," he said tightly. "I'm serious. Merlin was in a state."

Rage filled Gwaine, more heated than he had ever felt towards Arthur before, even when they had been at their most competitive. "What do you care?" he snapped, suddenly irate at the unfairness of it all. "You don't even notice what you've got in him - you - "

He stopped himself and took a quick breath, gathering himself. Arthur was an idiot, a complete moron who had never - and maybe would never - appreciate how sacrificing Merlin was for him, but all of that was his problem, not Gwaine's. None of it was Gwaine's problem anymore.

That thought should have brought him relief. Instead, guilt turned his stomach.

"Excuse me, your majesty," he said formally and stiffly. "I feel too unwell to participate in training today." And he turned around and left before Arthur could utter another word.

* * *

 

The world was grey and dull without Merlin in it. Gwaine went through the motions as best he could in the next few months, he went to the tavern and out with the knights and his friends from the lower town, he laughed at jokes and made jokes, he trained and he fought, and he even went on a few quests of his own and won acclaim throughout Camelot. His life was normal. His life was getting better. But it was nothing to what it had been.

He had, whilst being (dallying?) with Merlin, been with other people. Men and women, and only kisses, nothing else. He claimed that this was because he was a knight, and so had to be the perfect picture of chivalry at all times, and a lot of the time this was the case. Some of those people had been good kissers. But none of them had been Merlin, and he had lost interest almost immediately.

But now that he was no longer with Merlin, he didn't get with anyone. Not even kisses. There was no reason for it, it wasn't like he didn't have any offers and it wasn't like he didn't like any of them. He just didn't want to do anything. Nothing, with anyone, ever again.

The other areas of his life got better and even returned to some sort of normality. But this area stayed barren and dead, and he knew it would as long as Merlin was around.

He saw Merlin a lot. Of course he did, he was the king's manservant and Gwaine was one of the king's knights. They even had to speak to each other, but this was only ever when they were in a group - both of them always tactically made sure that they were never left alone with each other. Gwaine suspected that Merlin was faring the same as him, because he often saw him smile the same forced smile Gwaine knew he used on occasion, but he never tried to make any contact with Gwaine.

Plus, he was still besotted with Arthur. Anyone could see it, anyone but Arthur. The two of them revolved around each other as they had always done, Merlin never leaving Arthur's side, Arthur never letting Merlin out of his sight. They gravitated to each other, moved as one, just as they had done when Gwaine had first met them and just as they would always do.

* * *

 

Merlin had given up visiting the tavern after their 'break' as Gwaine named it in his head, usually citing too much work if the knights tried to persuade him in it. Which was why Gwaine was surprised when he turned up one evening, several months later, to find Leon, Percival and Elyan waving him over to the knight's table anxiously.

"If Percival has broken someone's arm again - " he started crossly, approaching them, but Leon interrupted him.

"It's _Merlin_ ," he said, and pointed over to the other side of the tavern. Merlin was sitting there on his own, drunkenly slumped over a table and currently downing a tankard of ale without drawing breath.

"Oh," Gwaine said.

"That's his eighth he's finished in one go," Percival said worriedly. "And he's only been here a couple of hours."

Gwaine glanced back over at Merlin. The man's hair was a mess, there were dark circles under his eyes, but he finished off the ale with determination and immediately waved for another one.

He looked back at the knights. They were all staring at him expectantly. "What?" he said.

"Go over there, then," said Percival.

Gwaine's mind started back-pedalling furiously. "Me?" he asked. "Why me? Why can't one of you do it?"

"Don't be stupid, Gwaine," Elyan said in his soft tones. "You know Merlin adores you."

The pain in his chest - which he had tried so hard to bury, which he had shoved under duties and friends and life in general - came back with a vengeance at these simple words, digging into him.

He tried to remember to breathe, to show nothing on his face. "Fine," he said, took a swig of Percival's ale for courage and turned on his heel.

Merlin didn't notice his approach, he was too intent on his ninth ale, but he did glance up when Gwaine was actually standing right in front of his table.

"Oh," he slurred. "Great. More guilt." His eyes were red, the skin around them chapped. All Gwaine's resistance melted at the sight, and he was sitting on the seat opposite Merlin before he could talk himself out of it. Merlin glared at him from where he had pillowed his head on his folded arms.

"I think it might be time to go home," Gwaine said as gently as possible.

"Why are you here?" Merlin said nastily, but there was an underlining exhaustion under his words that took all the bite out of them.

Gwaine stood up. "I'm your designated travelling companion," he said. "Come on."

He stretched out a hand to Merlin. Merlin glowered but took it, and Gwaine hauled him unsteadily to his feet. Merlin stumbled, then slumped, and Gwaine had to quickly wrap an arm around his waist to keep him upright. The warmth of Merlin's body leaked into his, and he had to grit his teeth against the familiar feeling.

"Come on," he repeated, and half led, half dragged Merlin out of the tavern. Elyan gave him a grateful smile, Leon a nod and Percival a thumbs up. He hated them all.

The air was cold and Merlin seemed to sober up a little in it, enough to mostly walk by himself, though Gwaine's arm seemed stuck to his waist and he couldn't convince himself to drop it.

They made a slow, silent way back to the castle for a long time. Then, rather drowsily, Merlin dropped his head and he said, "I've disappointed so many of them."

He didn't appear to be talking to Gwaine at all. He carried on. "So many. Morgana. The druids. Mordred. Gaius. Kilgharrah and Aithusa."

Gwaine frowned. "Who and who?" he asked.

Merlin didn't appear to hear him. "Arthur," he mumbled. "I've disappointed him so much and he doesn't even know it. And you."

He ground to a halt, staring at Gwaine, eyes suddenly present and clear. "I've disappointed you most of all," he said.

Gwaine didn't know how to reply. He couldn't bring himself to say a reassuring lie, but nor could he be cruel enough to agree. He pulled himself away from Merlin's gaze. "Let's get you home," he said quietly.

Merlin was silent for the rest of the walk back.

* * *

 

Gaius raised an eyebrow when they finally stumbled into his chambers, Merlin leaning so heavily on Gwaine that he was finding it hard to walk.

"This was nothing to do with me," he protested to Gaius as they struggled across the room, in defence against Gaius's disapproving stare. Gaius looked, if possible, even more severe.

"I will brew him a hangover remedy," was all he said. "Don't let him sleep before I've made it."

Gwaine nodded and dragged Merlin up the stone steps to his room, depositing him onto the bed with no small relief. Merlin mumbled into his sheets, then struggled to sit up.

"I'm thirsty," he complained, sounding like he was about five.

Gwaine reached for a glass of water that was thankfully sitting by the bed, and let Merlin gulp at it while he kneeled down to deal with Merlin's boots. They were as fiddly as armour, he could swear, though partly this had to do with the fact that Merlin was distracting him with his stupid knobbly knees, which were warm against Gwaine's shoulders and which Gwaine had always liked pressing kisses to in the past. He steeled himself and carried on with his task. When he had finished, he glanced up to find Merlin watching him. He looked sleepy and disorientated, his hair all ruffled up and sticking every which way. Gwaine wanted to put a hand on his cheek.

He cleared his throat and stood up, put some distance between them, and just then Gaius came in, holding a bottle of something green and disgusting looking. He handed it to Merlin, who grimaced.

"Down in one," Gaius advised, and looked sternly at Merlin until he drank it. Merlin winced at the flavour, which must have been as bad as it looked, but didn't complain. Gaius took back the bottle. "Idiot boy," he said, but fondly, and gave Merlin's shoulder a pat before leaving again.

Merlin scowled but drank more of his water silently until it was gone. Gwaine leaned forward and took the empty glass out of his hand. "Into bed?" he suggested. Merlin nodded and obeyed, pulling back the covers and somehow crawling under them in a very clumsy and overcomplicated manner. Gwaine hesitated, then kneeled by the bed, not quite wanting to leave yet. He watched Merlin's eyes droop.

"Gwaine," he mumbled after a while. "Do you like Mordred?"

Gwaine wondered if he should mention that Mordred had once attempted to kiss him on the walk back after a feast in Arthur's honour. Evidently men with dark hair, pale skin and clear blue eyes had a type, and that type was Gwaine. Unfortunately, Gwaine's type was Merlin and only Merlin, so he had refused it. Mordred hadn't seemed to mind, though he had pouted sweetly for a bit.

Merlin probably didn't need to hear this now. "He's all right," Gwaine said instead, diplomatically.

Merlin hummed. "I don't like him," he said.

Gwaine frowned. "Why not?" he asked.

Merlin said nothing. His eyes drooped lower. "Gwaine," he said sleepily. "Will you stay here tonight?"

Gwaine hesitated. "I'll stay 'til you're asleep," he replied finally, choosing the middle ground between fleeing now and never leaving Merlin ever again.

Merlin's hand crawled across the covers and took Gwaine's. "Thanks," he said, and almost immediately fell asleep.

Gwaine looked down at their entwined hands for what felt like hours, before he could force himself to pull away. Merlin didn't stir, in fact he was snoring a bit. Gwaine extinguished the candle and groped his way out of the room as quietly as possible.

Gaius was sitting at his desk, silently leafing through a book. He looked up when Gwaine exited Merlin's room, but said nothing. Gwaine hesitated, but he had to know.

"Why did he let himself get like that?"

Gaius paused for a long moment. "He has a lot of pressure on his shoulders," he said finally. "More than you may think."

Gaius knew, Gwaine thought suddenly. Merlin's dark secret, whatever it was, Gaius knew of it. He knew it all.

He watched Gaius. Gaius paused, and then said, as gently as possible, "Merlin needs every friend he can get."

Gwaine felt his heart twist. "I know," he managed. "But I - " He stopped. He had nothing to say. All he could do was nod a farewell to Gaius and leave, his stomach churning miserably.

* * *

 

Merlin came to see him in the afternoon the next day, just as Gwaine was readying himself for a visit to the lower town. He knocked and peeked round the door and Gwaine, busy pulling on his boots, almost fell off his chair in surprise.

"Hello," he said.

Merlin paused. He looked better, though very pale, and there were still circles under his eyes. "Hello," he said. "Um. I just came to thank you. For last night."

Gwaine nodded. "I hope Arthur treated you nicely this morning," he said, for something to say. It occurred to him that whenever he didn't know what to talk about with Merlin, he fell back on to the topic of Arthur. Arthur was, after all, central to both of their lives.

Merlin snorted. "Are you joking? The first clue he got that I was hungover, he was banging plates together and shouting at me."

Gwaine, despite himself, laughed. Merlin smiled in response, and for a moment it felt like the old days again. Then Gwaine recovered himself and hurriedly looked back to his boots, and Merlin shifted, and the awkward atmosphere reigned once more.

"Gwaine," Merlin said tentatively. "I. Um. I know you don't want - I mean that you can't - um - anymore. But I was wondering…I would still like to be friends."

Gwaine stared up at Merlin. Merlin hesitated, then added steadily, "I miss you."

Gwaine's heart did the same as it had when he had spoken to Gaius - it clenched tightly, so tightly he could barely breathe for a moment. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to be Merlin's friend, to spend time with him and speak with him and laugh with him. He wanted chats on rooftops and chases down corridors and drunken evenings in the tavern. He wanted it as much as Merlin - and Gaius - wanted it. But it would solve nothing between them, nothing at all. It would be a step backwards.

He shouldered his bag onto his back and decided to speak bluntly. "Merlin," he said. "I trust you. I always have. I have put my trust into you from the day I first met you, I have blindly followed you, and listened to you, and stayed silent and obeyed when you do and say the strangest of things. I have trusted you. But you have never returned it. You have never shown any trust in _me_. And I don't think any relationship - friendship or otherwise - can last for very long like that."

Merlin went even paler than he already was, but he nodded like he understood, even if his eyes were a bit dimmed.

Gwaine nodded too, a lump in his throat. "I'd better go," he said, suddenly glad that he had been about to leave before Merlin had arrived anyway.

Merlin nodded but didn't seem able to speak, and they walked to the door in silence.

Gwaine shut and locked the door behind him and they parted ways in the corridor, Merlin going one way and Gwaine the other.

* * *

 

Gwaine thought, after their talk, that everything would revert back to the dull grey existence it had been before. He expected Merlin to avoid him again, to only speak with him when they were in a crowd. He certainly didn't expect him to turn up the next night at some godforsaken hour, and pound on Gwaine's door until he woke up.

Gwaine blinked awake at the noise and was immediately vigilant, partly thanks to Arthur's training and partly due to his own instincts, honed by years of sleeping in dangerous places. He slid out the dagger he usually kept under his pillow (another instinctive move left over from his previous life) and crept to the door.

"Who's there?" he demanded loudly.

"Me," said Merlin's voice without hesitation.

Gwaine frowned but opened the door. Merlin was standing there looking like he had only just got out of bed; he was dressed only in his white nightshirt and slacks, and his hair was a mess. He also looked like he wanted to run as far away from Gwaine as possible.

Gwaine stared at him. "Is it Arthur?" he asked, then felt a deep pang that this was the first thing his mind would jump to, the first reason he could think of why Merlin would be at his door so late and so unexpectedly.

Merlin shook his head. "It's you," he said clumsily, then shook his head and ran a hand through his hair distractedly. "I mean, it's me. I mean, it's you and me."

Merlin glanced down the corridor as if he dearly wished to flee down it. Gwaine lowered his knife. Whatever this was, it didn't look like he was going to get attacked any time soon. Except by possible emotions, which no knife could guard against anyway.

Merlin tore his eyes from the corridor and back to Gwaine. "You were right," he said straightforwardly. "About what you said. I didn't trust you. I should have."

Gwaine didn't know what to say.

"Of course I should have trusted you," Merlin said, a despairing note coming into his voice. "You're _Gwaine._ "

His name, said as if _Gwaine_ was synonymous with _everything_. Gwaine had often heard Merlin say Arthur's name in that way. But never his own.

"Merlin," he said, and couldn't say any more.

Merlin glanced back down the corridor. "This isn't the right place to do this," he said. "Please, will you come with me?"

He held out a hand imploringly. Gwaine hesitated, but only momentarily. "Just let me get ready," he said, then ducked back into his room. He dragged on his boots and his cloak, then put his dagger aside and replaced it with his sword. As an afterthought he grabbed an old cloak and went back into the corridor, handing it to Merlin.

"You'll freeze," he said, and brandished the cloak at him.

Merlin paused, then slowly reached forward and took it. His eyes glimmered with moisture, but Gwaine couldn't understand why - it was only a cloak. He looked away, fiddling with his own cloak, and when he looked back, Merlin was already making his way down the corridor. Gwaine rushed to join him.

"Where are going?"

"Out of the castle," Merlin said, sounding like he was making this up on the fly. "The woods."

Gwaine's patience ran out. He stopped, grabbing Merlin's arm to make him stop too. " _Why?_ " he demanded.

Merlin his face to him. His skin was pale, his eyes large and blue and, Gwaine realised suddenly, terribly frightened. "Because," he said, "I'm going to tell you everything. All the mystery, Gwaine. Why I am what I am. Everything."

 


	10. Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: At last, the reveal! I hope you all had a lovely Christmas and New Year, mine was spent watching the finale, sobbing hysterically into cushions and being patted on the shoulder by dumbfounded relatives. Way to ruin Christmas BBC!
> 
> Just a reminder that this is an AU from series 5, so some elements will have changed. I don't know if Arthur's 4th year coronation anniversary is even possible in the time frame (I know we had the 3rd year one in 5x03) but neither do I care. So nyah.
> 
> This chapter features sarky!Kilgharrah. Oh, and I apologise for the cliffhanger...again..

* * *

_"Where are going?"_

_"Out of the castle," Merlin said, sounding like he was making this up on the fly. "The woods."_

_Gwaine's patience ran out. He stopped, grabbing Merlin's arm to make him stop too. "Why?" he demanded._

_Merlin his face to him. His skin was pale, his eyes large and blue and, Gwaine realised suddenly, terribly frightened. "Because," he said, "I'm going to tell you everything. All the mystery, Gwaine. Why I am what I am. Everything."_

* * *

 

Merlin led the way out of the castle, quietly and expertly in the darkness, as if he had done the trip a hundred times before. When they reached the outskirts of the castle he didn't stop, in fact he sped up so that Gwaine had to double his walking pace to keep up with him. They travelled like this in silence for half an hour, maybe more, and then, when they reached a rickety old wooden bridge that forded a small stream, far enough away from the castle not to be able to see it, Merlin suddenly screeched to a halt and turned to face Gwaine.

Gwaine stopped too, irresolute. There was a long silence. Gwaine listened to the stream gushing below the bridge and waited.

Merlin said at last, "I don't know how to tell you. I don't - I…"

Gwaine took a deep breath. He was feeling nervous, without really knowing why. Merlin's anxiety was infectious. "Merlin," he tried to say soothingly, "Whatever it is…it can't be that bad."

Even as he said the words, he remembered sombre Merlin, the dark Merlin, weighed down by a secret hidden deeper than anyone could delve, and wondered if he had been wrong. Merlin had confessed murder to Gwaine freely, and yet he was having trouble confessing _this._

Merlin took a step towards Gwaine, within touching distance. His face glimmered pale under the hood of his borrowed cloak. "I can't tell you," he said, "But maybe I can show you."

Gwaine frowned. "What?"

"Just…" Merlin stepped so close that Gwaine could feel his breath on his face, warm and so intrinsically _Merlin_ that he had to fight to resist it. "Just stay there," said Merlin, and touched Gwaine's cheek with pale fingers.

Images flooded Gwaine's mind, a barrage of images so convoluted and piled on top of one another that he was unable to distinguish any one from other. He flinched away, watched Merlin take in a quick, shaky breath.

"Stay with me," Merlin said, and touched Gwaine's face again, and this time Gwaine saw something in his eyes - a flash of gold.

 _Magic_ , his mind said, but before he could do anything, the images were back again, steadier this time if no less vivid.

He saw Merlin. Or, to be more accurate, he saw Merlin's life. He saw six-month-old Merlin cause a candle to fly up in the air, watched a dark haired woman who had to be his mother drop a bowl of water in shock at the sight. He saw an older Merlin get into trouble with his friend in the village because of his magic…and then leave the village altogether. He watched Merlin arrive in Camelot. He watched Merlin meet Arthur. He watched Merlin meet the dragon, and listened to what the dragon told him. That Arthur was to be a great king. That Merlin was meant to help him. That it was his destiny. And then he watched Merlin save Arthur time and time again; he watched him defeat fairies and trolls and assassins and Morgana and hundreds of other enemies. He watched the pain that Merlin went through, both physical and emotional - he watched the tortures, he watched Merlin's father die, he watched Merlin lie to Arthur about his birth, he watched Merlin try to save Uther and fail. And he watched Arthur fail to understand just what Merlin was doing for him. He watched all the times Arthur insulted Merlin, or ignored him, or forgot about him. And he watched him become a great king under Merlin's silent protection, just as had been predicted. He watched it all.

The world slowly span back into his consciousness, and Merlin's hand just as slowly slipped away from his cheek. Gwaine could see Merlin again, and the bridge, and the forest around them, but there was something wrong with his vision, it was all blurry. Then he blinked and felt moisture slide down his cheek, and realised he was crying.

He took a half step back. Merlin dithered, looking like he was about to run for his life. Gwaine scrubbed at his cheek roughly, trying to fight the deep sadness welling up inside him.

"Oh, Merlin," he said, and was surprised to hear his voice shaking. "You really are remarkable, aren't you?"

Merlin's bottom lip was trembling, his eyes - blue again, and as clear as spring pools - filled with tears. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

Gwaine - as usual - made up his mind in an instant. He crossed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Merlin, tugging him into his embrace. Merlin flinched, then let out a long, shuddering breath and buried his face into Gwaine's shoulder. They said nothing for a long while.

"I th-thought you'd be angry," Merlin said at last, his voice muffled in Gwaine's shoulder. "I d-didn't - "

"Shh," Gwaine ordered, and Merlin fell silent again, trembling in Gwaine's hold. Gwaine took a deep breath. "Merlin," he said quietly, "It's fine. Everything is fine."

"Arthur - it's why," Merlin said, sounding slightly hysterical, "It's why he has to come first, Gwaine. And - and sometimes I wish he didn't - "

"I know." Gwaine smoothed down the back of Merlin's hair with gentle fingers. "I know, Merlin, I understand."

They fell into silence again. After a bit, Merlin's shaking stopped and he pulled out of Gwaine's embrace a little. Gwaine looked at him and managed a shaky smile. "I feel horrible for what I did now," he said. "All that you've had to suffer - "

Merlin shook his head. "No," he said, sounding steadier now. "It was my fault. I should have trusted you."

Gwaine stroked back Merlin's hair. "And I should have trusted that you had a good reason to always put Arthur first," he said.

"You did," Merlin argued. "For such a long time, Gwaine. Far longer than I - than I should have allowed."

Gwaine could not argue with this. He busied himself with Merlin's hair, which was refusing to lie flat. "You can rely on me," he said. "I won't tell Arthur a thing. Well," he corrected himself, smiling slightly, "Not if you'll do something for me."

Merlin stared at Gwaine, wide-eyed. "What?" he asked.

Gwaine smiled. "Show me what you can do," he said.

Merlin blinked. "What - really?" he asked, in absolute disbelief.

Gwaine allowed his smile to turn into a smirk. "Let's just say I'm intrigued," he replied, and watched with satisfaction when Merlin's cheeks went a little pink.

"Right then," Merlin said, and then he blinked, there was a flash of gold in his eyes and the river underneath the bridge erupted into flames.

Gwaine let go of Merlin in shock. Merlin laughed. Gwaine rushed to the side of the bridge and stared at the river as it glittered and burned, still somehow flowing like water, a long scarlet band winding through the forest in front of them and not even _singeing_ the bridge. Merlin laughed again and the bridge was covered in sunflowers, Gwaine's favourite flower, the stems growing out of the wood of the bridge as if they had always been there. Gwaine cupped one of the blooms in his hand, admiring how it glimmered in the red light of the flame river, then looked back at Merlin.

He was standing differently somehow, or possibly it was the orange glow of fire behind him making it look so. He seemed…taller, more lordly, and Gwaine realised then that the Merlin he had been seeing and loving until now had been but a mere shadow of the real Merlin, and this was the real Merlin right here in front of him.

"You're incredible," Gwaine said honestly. Others may not have been so forthright, but Gwaine had always seen little point in dissembling.

Merlin grinned at him. It was still the old Merlin's smile, it still blazed with happiness whenever Gwaine saw it, it still made Gwaine want to swim oceans for him.

"Ever seen a dragon?" Merlin asked cheerfully.

Gwaine stared at him.

* * *

 

At first the idea of seeing a dragon excited Gwaine, but then he saw it flying through the sky towards them and he changed his mind.

He grabbed Merlin's arm. "It's huge," he moaned.

He didn't need to be looking at Merlin to know he was rolling his eyes. "'It' is a 'he' actually," said Merlin. "His name is Kilgharrah."

"Dragons have names?" Gwaine whispered, but at that point the dragon had landed and was staring at Gwaine fixedly.

"Young warlock," said the dragon suspiciously. "Who is this?"

"And it talks," Gwaine said faintly. "It has a name and it talks."

Merlin patted Gwaine's hand soothingly. "This is Gwaine," he said. "He's a knight of Camelot - "

"Ah," the dragon interrupted. "Sir Gwaine. Of course. The People's King, as the prophecy foretells."

"Dragons talk," Gwaine told it hysterically.

"King?" Merlin murmured.

The dragon didn't respond to any of this. It glared at Merlin. "You informed him of your secret?"

Merlin met its gaze steadfastly. "Yes," he said simply.

"Please don't eat me," Gwaine put in.

The dragon looked back at Gwaine. "I don't eat humans," it said. "Too many fiddly bones. Although I could make an exception just this once."

Gwaine doubled his grip on Merlin's arm. Merlin was shaking with laughter, but he put on a mock annoyed face. "Kilgharrah," he scolded.

The dragon sniggered. Gwaine squeezed Merlin's already crushed arm. "Dragons laugh," he informed Merlin.

"I know," Merlin replied gently. "This one, usually at me. We were thinking of going for a little flight," he told Kilgharrah.

"What?" said the dragon.

" _What?_ " said Gwaine.

* * *

 

In the end, the flying wasn't so bad. Gwaine closed his eyes and clung tightly to Merlin's waist when the dragon actually lifted off the ground, but he opened them when the juddering stopped.

He was in the air. He was flying in the air. It was like riding a horse, but it was smoother and faster than a horse could ever go, and he was in the _air._ He could see trees below, and mountains stretching out to the horizon, and more stars than he could ever have believed existed.

And Merlin was there, cocooned within Gwaine's arms and laughing into the wind, and Gwaine was momentarily so happy that he didn't know what to do with himself. So he smiled into the back of Merlin's neck and watched the stars rush past.

* * *

 

They went back to Camelot and continued with their lives peaceably. Gwaine and Merlin seemed to have returned back to what Gwaine would have labelled as friendship, if they didn't keep flirting outrageously with each other. There was something delicious about knowing something about Merlin that no one else did, especially with a secret so big as magic, and Gwaine revelled in it. He didn't even mind the constant attention Arthur got from Merlin…well, not as much.

Besides, there were more perks than Gwaine had initially realised to knowing that Merlin had magic. Mainly monetary ones.

* * *

 

Gwaine rushed into Gaius's chambers two weeks after Merlin's reveal, to find Gaius busily mixing herbs and Merlin with his nose in a book.

"What are you _doing?_ " Gwaine exclaimed.

Merlin's head shot up; Gaius's eyebrow raised, which was his equivalent reaction.

"Wh - what do you mean?" stuttered Merlin.

Gwaine planted his hands on his hips. "You're _reading._ "

"Um." Merlin looked down into his book. "Yes?"

"No," Gwaine corrected, and marched forward, taking the book from Merlin. He glanced at the pages. "Oh," he said. "The sort of poultices one should use for burned knees. How absolutely thrilling." He slammed the book shut. "Come on."

Merlin stared at him. "Where are we going?"

"The tavern," Gwaine said, yanking Merlin to his feet. "I just bet Percival a month's wages that I could beat him in an arm-wrestle."

"And what does this have to do with me?" Merlin asked as Gwaine started pushing him to the door.

"Are you joking?" Gwaine replied. "Have you seen Percival's arms? There's not a chance I could beat him in an arm wrestle without some help." He wiggled his fingers at Merlin. "You know. _Help._ "

Too late he noticed Gaius's glare. Merlin faltered under it. "Er," he said. "I can explain."

Gwaine rolled his eyes and continued pushing Merlin towards the door. "No time for this. I know, Gaius. I'm not going to tell anyone. Now come on before Percival wimps out of the deal!"

"I don't do magic for tricks," Merlin complained.

"Rubbish," Gwaine retorted. "I've seen how clean Arthur's armour always is. Don't try that with me."

"Damn," Merlin said and allowed himself to be pushed through the door. At the last second Gwaine glanced back at Gaius. He could have sworn the old man winked at him.

He beat Percival in the arm wrestle. Percival was dumbfounded.

* * *

 

The feast of Beltane came back around, and was celebrated extravagantly by Camelot, with feasting and dancing. Beltane was always Gwaine's favourite festival because it involved more dancing than speeches, and because everyone was always cheerful during such an optimistic occasion. He enjoyed seeing those he loved happy, so he threw himself into the preparations and the celebrations, chatting with Leon, drinking with Elyan, doing bad dancing with Percival. Arthur drank and even danced a few dances with Gwen. Merlin hovered behind the high table with the other servants, forgotten and bored. Gwaine kept an eye on him, and when he was on the dance floor but Arthur was back in his seat and deep in conversation with Leon, met Merlin's eye and pointed to the dance floor very slightly.

For a moment Merlin didn't realise Gwaine was gesturing at him. Then his eyes went wide and he shook his head hastily, looking over at Arthur. Servants were not permitted to dance when they were meant to be working.

Gwaine rolled his eyes. _Use magic,_ he said in his head, just in case Merlin could hear him. He wouldn't be surprised if he could, he was starting to think that Merlin could pretty much do anything. He wriggled his fingers just in case, a sign that he had started using for Merlin's magic.

Merlin shook his head again, but there was a little twitch at the corner of his mouth. Gwaine pounced eagerly on this show of weakness. _Come on, coward,_ he said in his head, and felt a tiny lurch in his stomach when Merlin's eyes narrowed. Maybe he could hear him.

 _Coward,_ he taunted again, and watched Merlin set his jaw. He was almost as bad as Gwaine when it came to a challenge.

Gwaine gestured again. This time Merlin smiled properly, the blinding joy throwing aside the shadows at the back of the hall. He turned his head away for a moment, then looked back and winked at Gwaine.

Gwaine glanced around himself. He could see no difference, but when Merlin put down the jug he was holding on the table right in front of Arthur, Arthur didn't react at all. He carried on his conversation with Leon, and didn't bat an eyelid even when Merlin walked around him and onto the dance floor. No one else reacted to this either, they just continued with what they were doing.

Gwaine went to meet him on the floor and took his hands. "Nice one," he said.

"Idiot," said Merlin, but he was grinning from ear to ear. "I'm only doing it because I like this song."

Gwaine smiled. "Of course," he said, and pulled Merlin into the set dance steps. He had danced with noblewomen, who were graceful, and with Percival, which they had both done exaggeratedly and theatrically. Merlin was different; Gwaine had expected him to be clumsy, and he certainly wasn't as polished as the women, but he had a grace all of his own. Gwaine fell into it smoothly.

"You're good," he said.

"My mother taught me," Merlin said dryly. Gwaine had a sudden image of ten year old Merlin clattering around a small house with his mother, knocking things over, and couldn't smother his grin.

He whirled Merlin around, and then back the same way. "So what is everyone seeing now?" he asked.

They held hands and pulled away from each other. Merlin grinned. "I'm standing just where I was before, like a loyal servant. You're dancing very badly and everyone is laughing at you."

They stepped back toward each other again, so close that their noses were almost touching. "Thanks," said Gwaine.

Merlin's grin widened. "No problem."

The dance steps had moved on; they were meant to whirl around again and keep going through the motions. Instead, they had paused where they were, nose to nose. No one around them seemed to notice.

Merlin was so close to Gwaine that he could count his eyelashes. His hands were cool in Gwaine's, his face alight with a smile.

"What happens if Arthur decides he needs your attention?" Gwaine asked. His voice sounded very faraway to his ears.

"Trust me." Merlin seemed to move closer, if that was possible. "He won't."

There was something in his voice, the deep certainty of an expert that would have made Gwaine suspect that Merlin didn't just have magic, he had strong magic - that was if he hadn't already seen Merlin set rivers on fire and call dragons down from the sky.

He could feel Merlin's pulse at his wrist drumming against his own. "So," he said, "You're telling me that if I were to kiss you now, right in front of Arthur, he wouldn't see it?"

Merlin shook his head. Gwaine smirked. Merlin laughed softly. "You're terrible," he said.

"Give me just this once," said Gwaine, and leaned forward. Their lips met as easily as if they had kissed yesterday. Gwaine sank into it as he always had. It felt, he had always thought, like he was plummeting through a deep ocean very quickly and smoothly. There was the same head rush, the same ease, the same sense of tumbling into something that you couldn't hope to control. He was dimly aware of Merlin winding his arms about him, of the music and the soft rush of people around him, but most of his focus was on Merlin's lips and what they were doing to him. Then Merlin tilted his head and tongue touched tongue, and a strange, electric energy shot straight through Gwaine from head to toe, not totally originating from the simple action of kissing Merlin. There was a kind of magical taste to it. He delved deeper into the kiss, wanting more, and the shock of it almost jolted him out of the kiss altogether. It shot through his veins like fire, so that he could feel every sensation multiplied by a hundred - the tickle of his formal outfit on his skin, the sweep of Merlin's fingers along the nape of his neck, the breeze scurrying across his body as the dancers swept around them…

Merlin gently broke off the kiss. Gwaine realised he was gasping and clutching onto Merlin, and that he was desperately aroused.

"What was that?" he breathed.

Merlin was pressed up against him, cool hands now hot and pressed into Gwaine's chest. He looked as unfocused as Gwaine felt. "An experiment," he managed at last.

"A _nice_ experiment," Gwaine replied, trying frantically to pull himself back together.

Merlin laughed quietly. "Yes," he said.

They detached a little, so that both of them could get their breath back. The world was spinning on without them, they were moored in the middle of it. Gwaine snuck a look at Arthur; he had stopped talking to Leon and instead was watching the dancers on the floor, but he was staring straight through them as if they didn't exist.

When he looked back at Merlin, Merlin was winding his arms back around Gwaine and leading them into a kind of rocking slow dance. Gwaine went along with it silently.

"Thank you," Merlin murmured after a while. "For - "

"Shh," Gwaine interrupted. "No need for that."

Merlin's chest jumped in laughter. "You are so - " he started, and then stopped himself. Gwaine closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth of their closeness, the gentle rocking. They were two in a crowd, but the crowd couldn't see them. It was ideal.

"Merlin," he said. "You know how you have magic?"

Merlin laughed again. "It failed to escape my notice, yes," he said.

Gwaine smiled against his cheek. "Could you try and magic this moment into lasting forever?" he asked.

He felt Merlin's cheekbones shift in an answering smile. "I'll try my best," he promised.

It didn't, of course, but Gwaine didn't mind.

* * *

 

The fourth anniversary of Arthur's coronation cropped up. It was a more lavish affair than his third, mostly due to the insistence of Gwen, who seemed to be trying her best to make it more cheery for Arthur. It seemed to work for a bit, but as the night went on Arthur became less able to keep up the façade and sank into a brown study, watching the dancing and responding to Gwen in monosyllables. Merlin stood in the background and dithered miserably, eyes on Arthur. Gwaine danced and drank, eyes on Merlin.

Halfway through the night, he saw something. There was a little flicker from Merlin's corner, so slight that Gwaine would have missed it if he had blinked, and then he was sure he saw Merlin standing beside Arthur instead of behind the table. Arthur had his face turned away from him, listening to Gwen on the other side. Gwaine watched as Merlin carefully leaned forward and pressed the lightest, saddest of kisses on Arthur's exposed cheek. Then Gwaine blinked, and the vision vanished, and Merlin was back in his place again.

He watched Arthur. The king finished his conversation and went back to his moping. After half a minute, his hand went up to his cheek quite unconsciously and he placed his fingers against where Merlin had kissed, frowning slightly.

Merlin bit his lip. Arthur dropped his hand and carried on with his meal. Gwaine returned to his drinks, trying to press down the old bitterness rising inside him.

Some things changed. But some things stayed the same.

* * *

 

And then came the Battle of Camlann.

 


	11. Endings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: New chapter! A reminder that this is an AU from season 5. I hope I don't break too many hearts with this chapter...but who am I kidding...

* * *

_Some things changed. But some things stayed the same._

_And then came the Battle of Camlann._

* * *

 

The first time Gwaine heard the name Camlann, he was in the meeting where Arthur laid out his plans to make a stand against Morgana and force her to retreat from Camelot's lands.

The second time he heard the name was from Merlin, who pounded incessantly on his door after the meeting at dusk and, when Gwaine opened the door, stared at him, white-faced and said " _Camlann,_ " is such tremulous tones that Gwaine thought he was going to faint. He reached forward and grabbed Merlin's shoulders before he did just that.

"What?" he said. "What is it?"

Merlin wilted in Gwaine's hold, as if he had only been keeping himself together until Gwaine touched him. "Camlann," he said. It seemed that was all he was able to say.

Gwaine gently drew Merlin into the room and sat him on the end of the bed. He was shaking so hard, the mattress started quivering.

"Take a deep breath," Gwaine advised, suddenly fiercely wishing Gaius was there. His job was stabbing at people, not healing them. "And then tell me what's wrong."

Merlin nodded and took a few deep breaths. He was clinging to Gwaine with unmistakeable desperation. Then, slowly, he removed a hand and rifled in his pocket for a scrap of parchment, which he handed to Gwaine. Gwaine opened it; it was written in a language he didn't understand.

"What does it say?" he asked.

Merlin's hand gripped at Gwaine's arm. "It speaks of the Battle of Camlann," he said at last, the words coming thickly and slowly. "It says…It's a prophecy, Gwaine and it says that the Battle of Camlann is where Arthur will die."

Gwaine stared at Merlin, suddenly numb. Merlin stared right back, his eyes filling with tears. "I saw it," he continued. "In a vision. A druid showed me. He's killed by Mordred, Gwaine."

The air left Gwaine's lungs for a moment. "Mordred?" he breathed. He remembered, suddenly, the drunk Merlin telling him he didn't like Mordred.

Now he knew why.

He took his own deep breath and tried to think clearly. "Mordred's a knight of Camelot, Merlin. He stabbed Morgana to save Arthur. He worships him. This doesn't make sense."

"Unless he's lying," Merlin said. Gwaine glanced at him, there was a fire burning in that blue gaze, a white hot fire. "It doesn't matter why he's going to do it," Merlin said. "What matters is that he _is_ going to do it. And I have to stop him, and I don't know _how._ "

He started trembling again. Gwaine grabbed hold of him again, shushing him, and allowed Merlin to lean into his shoulder, shaking silently in his arms. He wasn't sure he had ever seen Merlin this afraid, not even when he was admitting his magic to Gwaine. But then, this was more than Merlin in danger. This was _Arthur_ in danger.

"All right," Gwaine found himself saying out loud. "It'll be fine. This won't happen, Merlin."

"It's destiny," Merlin said through gritted teeth into Gwaine's neck. "It's _prophecy._ It has to come true, Gwaine."

"Rubbish," Gwaine replied flatly. "We won't let it, Merlin. We'll stop it."

"How?" whispered Merlin.

Gwaine made up his mind. "I'll kill Mordred," he said.

Merlin froze in his grip. Then he leaned back slowly. "You can't," he said.

"I will," retorted Gwaine stubbornly.

Merlin laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound. "Kill him for something he hasn't even done yet? Kill a fellow knight? You can't, Gwaine."

Gwaine stilled and looked Merlin directly in the eye. "I will," he stated.

When he used that voice, even Merlin knew not to argue. He sat back. "Arthur will execute you," he said. "He'll have no choice. You'll have killed an innocent. Or…or he'll banish you, at the very least. Gwaine…"

"Doesn't matter," Gwaine replied, though he felt his heart sink inside him at the thought of it. "He'll be alive. He'll be safe."

Merlin nibbled at his lip worriedly. "If we could prove," he said, "That he's in league with Morgana…"

"He might not be," Gwaine argued. "And even if he is, we don't have the time to gather evidence. If he has been working with Morgana, then they've been playing a very good game. There's no other way, Merlin."

Merlin stared at him. "You'd do that for Arthur?"

"Don't be stupid," Gwaine said. "I'll do it for you."

He was reminded, starkly, of another scene between them long ago; a scene involving a campfire, and 'pheasants', and a conversation about just who was whose friend. Merlin was looking as completely thrown as he had then.

"I can't let you do that," he said finally, stumbling over the words almost reluctantly.

Gwaine grinned, his old favourite smirk, leaning into Merlin's space. It felt as natural as breathing, being this close to Merlin. "Watch me," he promised.

Merlin lunged forward and kissed him. It was a kiss like a firework, all flash and fire and beauty, but unlike a firework it didn't burst and vanish, it kept going. Gwaine was dimly aware that he had his arms around Merlin, but then Merlin tilted his head and deepened the kiss, and Gwaine's mind went white. When he came to, he was lying on his back on the bed and Merlin was on top of him, and his eyes were glowing with golden fire, and every touch of his skin on Gwaine's burned like hot iron on cold flesh.

"Bloody hell," he managed, and then Merlin leaned down to kiss him again, and the kiss was so electric that Gwaine's vision went blank again. He felt Merlin's hands slide up under his shirt, felt the blazing trails they left behind, and he gasped and whined into Merlin's touch, silently begging for more. He felt his shirt being pulled off over his head, though he was dimly aware that Merlin's hands were actually on his hips. He reached blindly for Merlin once the shirt was off, and felt Merlin's hands entwine in his own, their fingers tangling together, and then his arms were being pressed into the pillows above him and Merlin's mouth was on his neck, branding him. He was vaguely aware of Merlin's lips moving, perhaps with a spell, perhaps with a prayer.

There were whispers all around him.

"Merlin," he said. That name, coming from his mouth, sounded reverent, sounded like worship. "Merlin," he said again, and it didn't sound any different. He wondered if this was what he sounded like to Merlin's ears, always so awed, so adoring.

Merlin's hands slipped down his arms like liquid fire. "Shh," he said, and then Gwaine felt his trousers slide slowly off his legs, more smoothly than should have been possible.

He opened his eyes, unaware until then that they had been closed. The air was full of magic, golden streams of lights wheeling above them.

Merlin shifted against him, sliding their naked cocks together. Gwaine closed his eyes again. Merlin's hand reached down to take them both together, and his touch was so heady that Gwaine bucked up in his hold and swore, and there was fire in his mind. He grabbed hold of Merlin as if he was a sailor drowning in a storm, and Merlin moved them together smoothly, never breaking pace, his lips sometimes on Gwaine's neck, sometimes on his face, sometimes on his own mouth. His breath was hot and electric, and Gwaine arched into him and groaned and begged, and then everything got faster, and hotter, too hot, too fast, too hot - and then he jerked in Merlin's hold and came so hard that darkness swamped him.

He heard Merlin gasp too, and strain against him, his body burning on Gwaine's, and then he lay still.

There was a perfect silence.

The heat dispersed. Merlin's body became once again mortal, his chest trembling, his heart fluttering against Gwaine's as it always did, as it had always done. Gwaine slowly became aware of his own body, his arms, his legs. He felt absolutely relaxed, drowsy with happiness.

"A _very_ nice experiment," he heard himself slur and then dropped into sleep.

* * *

When he woke again it was dark, and the moon was showing through his window, the curtains of which he had left open. It hung heavily in the sky, almost full, certainly bloated. Gwaine watched it contentedly for a while. He had never felt more at peace.

After a while, he became aware of a body nestled against him, of soft breathing against his shoulder, and of a gentle finger tracing invisible patterns on his chest. He turned his head, nuzzling Merlin's hair softly, then dropped a gentle kiss on his forehead. The peace remained, but now it was shaded with an inexplicable, unmistakeable sadness.

"Maybe this was how it was meant to be," he said, and then only realised he was speaking. "Maybe this was _my_ destiny."

"To kill an innocent for the love of a fool," Merlin said quietly. "What a horrible destiny."

"What a wonderful destiny," Gwaine corrected, and they fell silent.

* * *

Gwaine's days leading up to Camlann were fraught with nerves and irritations. He had to start sneaking around the castle for a chance to catch Mordred alone, which was so against his character that he felt edgy and argumentative. It was only worse when he saw Mordred amongst the other knights, laughing and smiling as though he were truly one of them. If someone other than Merlin had told Gwaine of Mordred's treachery, he would never have believed them.

He caught him eventually, slipping back through the castle gates after dark. It was only by luck that Gwaine was there in the first place, filling in for a sick guard, and Mordred was so quiet he almost missed him altogether. Then he saw him, sliding silently against the castle wall, and his heart almost failed him, because he had never seen a face so full of furtive deceit as this one right now.

He planted himself in front of Mordred, and drew his sword.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

Mordred froze, then met his gaze. "I thought I saw something," he said, his expression open.

Gwaine stood his ground. "You're not on duty."

Mordred's expression switched to one of disbelief. "Morgana's spies are everywhere at the moment, you know that," he said. "You think I was going to ignore something suspicious because I _wasn't on duty_?"

Gwaine looked at Mordred. There was no longer anything in his face to suspect that what he said was untrue; he looked like the Mordred Gwaine knew, the Mordred who had laughingly tried to kiss him and mildly accepted his refusal, the Mordred who he had shared a thousand jokes with, the Mordred who had always been so quiet, so hardworking, so eager to do his best.

"What did you find?" he asked.

"Nothing, annoyingly," said Mordred. "I got out of bed for nothing. Now, if you'll excuse me." And he nodded to Gwaine with a smile and moved around him to walk back to the castle.

And there - that was the moment. The moment when Mordred was unprotected and right in front of Gwaine, the moment when all he needed to do was drive his sword through Mordred's back and Arthur would be saved from death.

And he couldn't do it.

He stared down at the sword in his hand, willing it to move. Nothing happened. He couldn't do it. He couldn't bring himself to kill this man, this knight, this _friend_ , even though he knew what would happen if he did not. Mordred was innocent now, even if he would not be later. It shouldn't have made a difference, but it did. It made a difference to Gwaine.

"Good night, Gwaine," Mordred called warmly over his shoulder as he made his way to the castle.

Gwaine glanced at his sword again, then sheaved it, his heart sinking like a stone inside him. "Good night, Mordred," he replied.

* * *

Merlin found him there later, just as dawn was striking, sitting with his back against the cold castle wall and looking at nothing. He switched his blank gaze to Merlin as he quietly kneeled down beside him.

"I didn't do it," he said. "I could have. But I hesitated."

Merlin shook his head, but he said, "It's all right."

"I hesitated," Gwaine said. "But you wouldn't have. You'd have killed him. I know you would have. You've done it before. Agravaine…and you poisoned Morgana. You'd do anything to protect Arthur."

Merlin swallowed hard, but he said nothing. Gwaine smiled humourlessly. "I thought your magic was fun," he said, "Useful for tricks and jokes. I knew you'd used it more seriously, to help Arthur. But I didn't think. I didn't think what 'protecting Arthur' would entail. You've done terrible things, Merlin."

He'd said the last bit without judgement or outrage, but Merlin flinched anyway. "I had to," he said, and he didn't sound sorry.

Gwaine nodded. "I understand," he said, and he thought he actually did, for the first time, understand just what lengths Merlin had had to go to to protect Arthur, to protect Camelot, to fulfil his destiny. He took a deep breath. "I won't hesitate again," he promised.

Merlin's expression wrinkled. "You should," he argued. "That's you, Gwaine. That's what you do. You would never harm an innocent."

"But - " Gwaine protested.

"No," Merlin argued. "I shouldn't have let you do this. It isn't you. It is not what you are. It's what I am, but not you. Not you, Gwaine."

They watched each other like cats. Eventually Gwaine nodded. "Fine," he said, but they both knew he didn't mean it.

* * *

In the end, he never got to say goodbye to Merlin. He only found out when they set off that Merlin had told Arthur he would not be coming with him. Percival had told him, looking grave, and Gwaine realised that the other knights had started to consider Merlin a kind of lucky charm. After all, as far as they could see, when Merlin was with them, harm always managed to avoid them. Gwaine knew why now, of course, but they didn't. Besides, the knights liked Merlin. Everyone did.

He collared Gaius as soon as he could, when they had reached the place near Camlann where they were to camp. "Where's Merlin?" he demanded.

Gaius flashed Gwaine a careful look, but did not dissemble. He knew Gwaine would never buy the story that Merlin was too afraid to come along. Gwaine had always known Merlin better than that, even before he knew of his magic.

"He has lost his magic," said Gaius, keeping his voice low although everyone was out of earshot, busily setting up camp for the night. "Morgana took it."

Gwaine felt his courage briefly fail him. He realised that he had been relying on Merlin, ever since hearing of the prophecy, to make everything well again. If he couldn't…if Morgana had won already…

"He is fighting to get it back," Gaius said. "Elyan accompanied him to the crystal cave."

"The what?" Gwaine frowned.

"It's in the Valley of the Kings," Gaius explained.

Gwaine felt his heart drop. "That place is fraught with danger! And Elyan is here! Merlin's - "

" - alone," Gaius finished for him. "But if all goes well, he will have his magic again and that will not be a problem for him."

Gwaine felt lost. "Why didn't he ask me to accompany him?" he asked. "I - I should have - "

"Probably because he knew you would not leave him," Gaius replied calmly. He had clearly thought this through. "And Arthur needs you."

"But," Gwaine said. _But we could have said goodbye,_ he thought miserably.

"As well as that," Gaius continued. "Only you know of Mordred and his intentions."

Gwaine caught his thought. "And only I can stop him from hurting Arthur," he said grimly.

Gaius said nothing, but his nothings were always loaded with meaning. Gwaine nodded glumly to him and let him be, going to help Percival erect the tents instead. The work kept his hands busy and his mind free.

He didn't want to kill Mordred. He could see him now, at the other end of the camp, laughing with Elyan and moving furniture into the tents. He seemed as relaxed and calm as any of the other knights, who had lapsed into their old cheeriness that always fell among them before a big battle. He did not seem like an evil man.

He didn't want to kill Mordred. But he couldn't let Arthur die. What if Merlin didn't recover his magic? What if he didn't come back in time?

It was up to Gwaine now to stop destiny.

He picked second watch and spent the time of the first watch lying in the entrance of the tent, staring at the stars. He fiddled with his necklace that his father had given him. He hadn't much worried about dying in the oncoming battle, hadn't even given it too much thought what with the problem of Mordred on his mind. But now, for the first time, he thought about it, and he knew he didn't want to die.

He didn't want to die without having been able to say goodbye to Merlin first.

He clutched at his necklace and stared up at the stars, and prayed to anything that was listening, a wild, desperate prayer. _If I have to go,_ he prayed, _please let me see him before I do._

The last thing Gwaine had said to him was that he had done terrible things…not words of love, but that…

His fingers fell, almost instinctively, to Lot's ring, given to him by his people. He remembered the kingdom waiting for him, the kingdom that needed him. All those innocents, caught in a strife that he could have ended.

For the first time, he regretted not going with Lot's people when they came for him.

He could have done great things, and now there was no time, no time for anything at all.

* * *

War started early, during Gwaine's watch, with Arthur bursting out of the tent and directing men to some hidden path, blathering nonsense about seeing it in a dream, which everyone ignored but Gwaine heard with a glimmer of hope. Only one person would have the power and the desire to speak to Arthur in a dream…

He strapped on his sword and entered the battle with new hope.

* * *

It was the bloodiest battle he had ever fought. There was blood everywhere, coating the floor and making it hard to fight on, smeared on the faces of the dead as he stumbled over them, splattered against the rock faces encasing them. Gwaine fought as fiercely as he could, but he wasn't as focused as usual, he was constantly trying to watch out for Mordred. Mordred had vanished early on, which only served to reinforce Gwaine's suspicions, so he swapped tactics and attempted to keep Arthur in his sights instead. This was difficult; Arthur was fighting better than Gwaine had ever seen him fight, in fact better than Gwaine had ever seen anyone fight, and it was hard to keep up.

He had just finished dispatching a particularly difficult and huge opponent, and was looking for Arthur, who had vanished from view, when he felt it.

There was someone behind him.

He turned to face them, but he was too late. He felt the sword rip through his chainmail and slide through his back to his front in one long, hot tear of pain.

He glanced down. Mordred's sword tip could just be seen protruding through his stomach, wet with his own blood. His sword fell from his hand silently.

"Idiot," Mordred's voice said in his ear. "Don't you think I realised you were looking for me?"

He yanked the sword out of Gwaine's body; Gwaine felt the metal shudder and screech against the bones of his ribcage and gasped, staggering. Mordred appeared suddenly in front of him, gripping his shoulders with an iron vice, and he was laughing a cruel, low laugh.

"You thought you could deceive me?" he asked. "I knew you wanted to kill me that night when you caught me coming into the castle. I knew you suspected me. Merlin told you, I take it? He never trusted me."

The sun was starting to rise behind Mordred. Gwaine could see it, a low, orange-red light glimmering over the blood-stained rocks.

Mordred gave him a little shake. "I never liked Arthur," he spat. "I never liked any of you. When I saw what you'd done to Morgana - and she'd been so loving once upon a time - so caring." He shook Gwaine again; Gwaine coughed and felt blood trickle down the corner of his mouth. "She was the only one who ever cared about me," he spat. "In all those people, she had been the only one. And Arthur _destroyed_ her!"

The noises of the battle were fading, but the stench of smoke and blood in the air was not. Mordred's fingers were so tight on Gwaine's shoulders that he thought they would leave bruises.

"I'll show him," Mordred promised. "I'll kill him. And you won't be able to stop me. Neither you nor your precious Emrys." And he pushed Gwaine, so violently that Gwaine hit the rock face behind him in a flash of pain, and then crumpled to the ground.

"So much for you," said Mordred, and left.

There was an almost peaceful silence.

The world went a little blurry. Gwaine blinked hard and his vision came back, but he knew it wouldn't be there for long. He glanced down at his wound. There was blood everywhere, all over his hands, pooling on the ground. His blood. His own blood on the floor, when it should be inside him…

The world faded into darkness.

* * *

Someone was screaming his name. He could hear them, dimly. He had a massive headache, and they weren't helping it. He opened his eyes to tell them off.

Merlin was kneeling over him, face white with terror. His eyes were a perfect blue, even against the backdrop of battle. They were like oceans.

"They're like oceans," Gwaine said aloud.

Merlin's face creased into a frown. "What?" he said.

Gwaine shifted and pain shot through him, and with it his memory. He seized Merlin's arm. "Mordred," he gasped. "He - "

"I know," Merlin croaked, and for the first time Gwaine realised he was shaking badly. "He wounded you, I know, I know. Just lie still."

He hovered his hand over Gwaine's wound, and Gwaine stared at it for a while, before he understood what was happening. He grabbed Merlin's wrist, forcing it away from himself. "No," he said.

Merlin stared at him. "Gwaine, I'm healing you!"

"No," Gwaine said again. It was hard to talk, it was hard to breathe. "Save your strength. Mordred…he's going after Arthur. I failed. Merlin, I failed."

"No," Merlin echoed fiercely. "You didn't, you didn't - "

Gwaine shook his head. "You need to go," he argued. "Now."

"But - " Merlin objected, and moved towards Gwaine again. Gwaine pushed him away with the last remnants of his strength.

"Arthur first," he said. "Remember? Always Arthur first. Go."

Merlin's expression crumpled, but he made no move to go towards him again. "Gwaine," he whispered.

"I'll be fine," Gwaine lied. "You have to go now."

Merlin wavered again, but his worry for Arthur was clearly winning the battle. He grabbed Gwaine's hand, and suddenly his eyes weren't like oceans anymore, they were storms, commanding, brutal, and terrifyingly powerful. "Hold on," he ordered. "I will come back for you."

Gwaine nodded, though he could feel the pain welling up inside him, the blood rising like bile. He felt Merlin squeeze his hand, then start to pull away.

 _At least_ , he thought, _I got to see Merlin before I went._

"I love you," he said. He said it honestly, the words tumbling out of him. Because if this was the last time, Merlin needed to know. He needed to hear it one more time.

Merlin looked absolutely stricken. He dropped back to his knees again, and before Gwaine could stop him, pressed his hands to either side of Gwaine's head and brought his lips to Gwaine's, kissing him so hard that Gwaine went dizzy from it. It was a desperate, terrified kiss, and it made Gwaine completely, utterly happy.

When Merlin pulled away, Gwaine's blood was smeared on his lips. His face had frozen with resolve, his features still and stern. "Hold on," he repeated. "I'll be right back."

Gwaine smiled at him, because it hurt to nod now. Merlin pulled away and stood up, and then, after a long, uncertain pause, rushed away.

The silence was complete now. The sun had now cleared the horizon, turned a kind of golden colour, flickering through the smoke. Gwaine could taste Merlin on his mouth; he pressed his lips together and smiled to himself.

The pain started to fade away. He thought of Lot's kingdom, many miles from here, and considered it his. _His_ kingdom, never won but his nevertheless.

It was getting darker, but that wasn't the sky, it was him. He thought of Merlin. He thought of how, even now, even as Gwaine was dying, he had not returned Gwaine's declaration of love.

He hoped Merlin would save Arthur.

He could feel his blood on his hands, cooling in the morning breeze.

He hoped Merlin -

And then the darkness swamped him for the last time, and he felt nothing at all.

* * *

Someone was whispering in his ear. Singing almost. Certainly beckoning to him. He wanted to ignore it and fall back into the blackness. It had been nice there. It had been complete, as though he had been missing a part of himself all this time and had only found it in that darkness. He wanted to turn to it.

But the voice was calling him.

It sounded familiar.

He turned towards the voice instead.

The next thing he knew was a flash of pain, gold-white behind his eyelids, and then he opened his eyes again and he was back on the battlefield, gasping with exertion, and the sun was high in the sky, and there were streams of golden light all around him, all around everyone, all those crumpled bodies on the ground around him.

He looked down at his wound. It had vanished. His hands were free from blood. He took an experimental breath, and felt sweet morning air rush down his lungs. He was not choking on blood, or pain. There was none of that. He was completely well.

He tried to rise, but he was so weak he could only just shuffle slightly forward. All around him, people were stirring. There was a soldier near him, whether Camelot or Saxon he didn't know, he couldn't tell, who clearly had a broken neck, but even as Gwaine watched, his neck clicked back into place as easily as anything and he opened his eyes and groaned.

Gwaine struggled to his knees and peaked around the rock face to the rest of the battlefield. Everywhere there were streams of golden light, touching each still body and wakening them back into life. Soldiers, all soldiers, were moving, stirring, sitting up. Hands fell to heads, groans echoed from parted lips.

They were being healed, all of them.

Gwaine turned to look the other way.

At first, he thought another sun had come into the sky. Then he realised it was a person, on the top of the cliff, glowing with a gold-white light so bright that it brought tears to Gwaine's eyes. He could see someone sitting at the foot of the cliff staring up at this shimmering god of a person, and he realised it was Arthur. Arthur was alive, breathing, moving, whole.

The golden streams of light started to fade as people started to wake and look about them. The light surrounding the person faded in response, falling from sunlight to candlelight and then to no light at all, and in its place stood Merlin, eyes blazing gold, face white, hands outstretched towards the field of waking people.

For a long moment, Merlin stood, golden-eyed, seeing all, and then he blinked and when he opened his eyes they were blue again, as blue as spring pools.

He dropped his arms and glanced down the cliff face to where Arthur was crumpled, and they looked at each other for a long moment.

And then Merlin blinked again, and trembled, and slid silently to the floor, as suddenly as if someone had struck him down.

There was a hushed silence, broken only by a few confused cries. The sun reached further into the sky.

It was a new day.


	12. Pleas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello again, all! Apologies to all who thought the last chapter was the final one - what can I say, I lied ;). This is either the penultimate chapter or the third to last chapter, depending on how it goes...so I hope you enjoy.
> 
> And thank you so much for the kudos and comments so far, I can't tell you how much it means to me to know people like what I write.

* * *

_There was a hushed silence, broken only by a few confused cries. The sun reached further into the sky._

_It was a new day._

* * *

At some point Gwaine must have fainted again, because he woke to the blurry sight of Gwen watching over him. Her hair was swept over her shoulder and the ends tickled his cheek as she leaned down.

"Hold on," she said, "You're safe now."

He fell into blackness again.

* * *

He was woken again by an enormous jolting, and woke to find a wooden ceiling swinging above his head rhythmically. Someone was crying out somewhere near his ear, and someone else was talking to them in a low, rapid voice.

He tried to sit up, and instead fell asleep.

* * *

The first thing Gwaine thought when he woke was _I'm so tired._

He opened his eyes. The wooden ceiling was above him again, but this time it wasn't moving.

Someone brushed past him. It took all his energy to move his head to see who it was. It was Gaius, leaning slowly over someone lying asleep on a pallet, his white hair glimmering in a grey light.

"Gaius," he muttered, dry mouthed.

Gaius turned and inspected him. "Rest," he advised. He did not look worried, but then he never did, no matter how desperate the situation.

Gwaine took a deep breath in, willing himself to stay awake and focused. "Where am I?"

"In a carriage," Gaius said. "We are taking you all back to Camelot."

"All?" mumbled Gwaine. He thought suddenly of Merlin, the image of him collapsing to the ground flashing before him.

"All," Gaius confirmed quietly. "Close your eyes, Gwaine."

Gwaine obeyed, and quickly fell unconscious again.

* * *

He woke, what felt like a long time later. The wooden ceiling no longer floated above him, it had been replaced instead by a very familiar ceiling - his own.

He raised his head, as much as he was able. He was in his bed in Camelot, in his room, with his stuff littered around him as if he had never left it. The sun was streaming through the window. He was dressed in his casual slacks and a light shirt, the sort he usually wore to bed. He felt like he had just woken from a horrible dream; everything seemed so terrifyingly normal.

There was a jug of water and a glass near his bed, but his arms wouldn't obey him, they just lay motionless beside him. He was so _weak._ It was frightening.

His door was open out onto the corridor. He cleared his throat and shouted as loud as possible.

"Hello? Is there anybody there? Hello?"

He kept shouting until he heard footsteps coming down the corridor, then let his poor dry throat relax. The footsteps paused at his door, and Gwen looked in.

"You're awake," she said, and her face lit up in a smile. She looked drawn and harried, with dark circles under her eyes.

Gwaine tried his best to smile back. "And thirsty," he hinted, and looked pointedly to the jug.

"Oh!" Gwen rushed forward and filled the glass, then held it to his lips, holding up his head with a careful hand. Gwaine rolled his eyes, but his desire to drink overwhelmed his desire for self respect. He drank like he hadn't drunk for weeks, and worryingly soon the glass was empty.

Gwen smiled. "Another?" she asked.

Gwaine nodded. She refilled the glass and they went through the same process several times, until Gwaine had drunk all he could and lay back on the bed and relaxed. He was as weak as a kitten, but still felt better than he had done the last few times he had woken.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Merlin," Gwen said simply, replacing the glass on the table. She caught his anxious look and elaborated. "You were dying, or you had died. Either way, Merlin brought you back. He brought everyone back. Camelot soldiers, Saxon soldiers. Mordred. Morgana. Arthur. Everyone. But you're all so weak, it's taken weeks for most of you to simply regain consciousness."

Gwaine frowned. "Everyone is here? In Camelot?"

Gwen half-shrugged. "Some of the Saxons were helped by their own. Mordred and Morgana have vanished. But the majority are here. And every Camelot soldier is here."

Gwaine closed his eyes briefly. "And Merlin?" he asked, and braced himself for the worst.

There was a small pause. Gwaine's heart lurched with horror; he opened his eyes. "Gwen," he said, and his voice was as rough as sandpaper. "Tell me he's not - "

"He's alive," Gwen said, and for the first time she sounded a little tremulous. "But only just…Gaius says…Gaius says it's like he's in a deep sleep. Deeper than anyone else. No one knows if he'll wake up or if he'll just…"

She trailed off, but Gwaine got the gist of it anyway. He took a deep breath. "I have to see him," he said, and tried to muster some power into his arms.

Gwen was immediately all concern. "Gwaine, you can't, you can barely lift yourself up - "

"Where is he?" He raised himself to a sitting position, gritting his teeth. All his limbs felt as weak as water.

Gwen faltered. "Arthur's chambers," she said eventually. "But you can't…"

"Watch me," Gwaine replied. He took in another deep breath, then slipped out of the bed and tried to stand. It took everything he had not to crumple embarrassingly to the floor and he had to cling to his bedpost, but he was standing.

He made a single step with titanic effort, a slow shuffle across the floor. Gwen watched and wrung her hands. "Gwen," he said, biting his lip, "I'm going to see Merlin with or without your help. But with will be easier."

Gwen hesitated a mere second later, then took his arm and placed it around her shoulders. "Gaius is going to kill me," she muttered, but she helped him out of the room.

Gwaine's room was not very far from Arthur's - it was in fact one corridor and seventeen steps away. In his earlier days he had bounded up the steps without a care in the world, reaching Arthur's room in maybe five seconds flat.

This time it took half an hour. Gwen tutted and fussed the entire way, but she didn't stop him, and Gwaine hid his fretting with his old casual jibes and jokes, and began to feel a bit more like his old self again.

This all stopped when they opened the doors to Arthur's chambers and Gwaine saw Merlin.

He was lying in Arthur's bed, the red covers pulled up to his clothed chest, arms lying exposed by his sides. His eyes were closed and his face was so white that Gwaine fancied he could see the globe of his skull through his skin. He was thin, thinner than he had ever been, but he was breathing as well, a small but steady inhale and exhale.

Arthur was sitting by the bed. He looked like he hadn't slept for a week, and his usually clean shaven jaw was rough with stubble, but he still looked better than Gwaine felt.

He looked up when Gwaine entered, then stared.

"You look like the walking dead," he commented.

Gwaine struggled to Arthur's bedpost, letting go of Gwen in triumph. "I'm fine," he said, and then his knees buckled under him in betrayal. He swayed, and Gwen quickly pulled a chair to him and sat him down by the bed opposite Arthur.

He stared at Merlin. Merlin breathed in and out, silent as a ghost.

Arthur shot a quick look at Gwen, who shrugged. "You should be in bed, Gwaine," he said.

"I'm fine," Gwaine repeated. Merlin looked like he had one hand on the gates of death. He was so pale, so fragile…Gwaine began to feel his vision blur and blinked hastily, but it wouldn't go away.

He heard Arthur shift slightly on the other side of Merlin. "He'll be all right," he said quietly.

"He won't wake," Gwaine said, and was surprised to hear a thin reed of desperation in his voice.

"He will," Arthur said, and his voice was shaky too. "I know he will."

Gwaine glanced at Arthur. He certainly seemed better than Gwaine, he sat up properly, not slumped like Gwaine, and his movements had more strength in them. "You seem all right," Gwaine said quietly.

"I'm recovering faster than everyone else," Arthur replied, a little unsteadily. "I don't know why. I think it must be Merlin's m-m-magic."

The word shook the room and left Gwaine speechless. He stared back down at Merlin, so silent, so still. His hand lay limp against the red covers. Gwaine touched his little finger, hesitantly, as if it would hurt him. Merlin was freezing cold.

"How long has he been like this?" he asked.

"Two weeks, four days," Arthur replied promptly, gaining a little more strength in his voice.

Gwaine coughed. "How can he still be alive?"

"Gaius feeds him," Gwen said softly. Gwaine started; he'd almost forgotten she was there. "He swallows soup, and he drinks. He just won't wake."

"He _will_ ," Arthur said, a bit desperately.

Gwaine folded his arms on the bed and let his head fall on them. He was tired, he was so tired.

"Gwaine," Gwen said, sounding worried. "You must go back to bed."

Merlin lay beside him, cold and white. He felt his vision blur again, and a sob escaped him before he could stop it.

Gwen's hand touched his shoulder gently. "Come on," she said. "Come on, Gwaine."

Blindly, he allowed her to raise him to his feet. He was shaking so hard he could barely stand.

He allowed her to lead him out of the door. It took forty five minutes to get back to his room, and as soon as he was lying down and his head touched his pillow, he was asleep again.

* * *

When next he woke, it was dark outside, but he couldn't tell how much time had passed. Someone had lit candles around the room and left bread as well as water by his bed - he suspected Gwen. He was strong enough this time to pull himself up and devoured the bread in seconds, suddenly starving. Then he drank several glasses of water and waited for a moment, gathering his strength.

Standing up was easier this time, though he still had to cling to objects to get himself around. He began the long, slow progress to Arthur's chambers.

The room was filled with candles, and Arthur was sat by the bed, in exactly the same place he had been before. He glanced up when Gwaine came in but did not forbid him to enter.

Someone had left Gwaine's chair by the bed. He groped his way towards it, then collapsed gratefully into it. Merlin lay motionless in the bed. He looked no better, even in the flickering candlelight.

The two men sat by him and stared in silence for a while.

"How long?" Gwaine asked at last.

"Two weeks, six days," Arthur said quietly. "Or maybe three weeks now. I'm not sure of the time."

Gwaine shifted in his seat. "Do you ever sleep?"

Some odd emotion flickered in Arthur's eyes. In the candlelight, they were a very dark blue. "Sometimes," he said.

Gwaine nodded and looked back at Merlin. He didn't know what to say.

"Others are waking," Arthur said. "Some are recovering very quickly. Percival, others…"

Gwaine nodded again. Silence fell again.

"Did you know?" Arthur asked suddenly.

Gwaine started and glanced up. Arthur was staring at him levelly. There had been no anger in his voice.

Gwaine told the truth, as he had always done. "Yes," he said. "But I only found out recently."

Arthur nodded. "You should have told me," he said, but there was still no accusation there. "You are a knight of Camelot - "

Gwaine laughed, a short bark of a laugh. "With all due respect, sire," he said. "I'm Merlin's knight before I'm Camelot's."

He had said too much, he knew it instantly. Arthur blinked with sudden understanding.

"You love him," he said.

Gwaine couldn't speak. His throat was as clogged up as it had been when he had first awoken. His mouth was open but nothing was coming out. He wanted to explain, to tell Arthur everything, to tell him how lucky he was, but there was nothing, all the words had fallen to dust in his mouth.

He glanced over at Merlin but it didn't help.

"I have to go," he said quickly. He struggled to his feet. Arthur made no move to stop him, but he didn't go to help him either. He watched Gwaine shuffle painstakingly towards the door.

And then, as Gwaine left the room, he heard Arthur say softly, "You really did a number on that one, didn't you Merlin?"

The door closed on silence. Gwaine half-crawled his way back to his room alone.

* * *

When next he woke, it didn't seem so long as it had before. He wasn't even very hungry. Still, when Gwen entered later with a bowl of broth, his appetite quickly returned, and he scoffed it in record time. Then he sat back and let his limbs relax.

Gwen took the empty bowl from him quietly. "I suppose you want to go and see Merlin now," she said warily.

Gwaine thought of the previous night, of Arthur's eyes widening in realisation. "I might not go again," he said slowly.

Gwen hesitated, then gave Gwaine her more assessing glance, the one that no one could escape. "I think Merlin would want you there," she said at last.

Gwaine paused. And then he sat up.

* * *

Arthur was looking healthier. Merlin was not. He was practically skeletal now. Gwaine stumbled into his seat, mostly under his own steam, and stared at Merlin's wrist. It was so thin, he could almost see the bone poking through the skin.

Arthur was sitting bolt upright. He never rested on the bed, never went near Merlin. He just sat and watched. He said nothing to Gwaine and Gwaine said nothing to him. Gwen silently left them to it.

"When he wakes," Gwaine said, "What are you going to do?"

Arthur did not even hesitate in his answer. "Banish him."

Gwaine was left briefly speechless. He simply sat and stared at Arthur, mouth open. Arthur glanced up at him, then frowned in irritation. "What?" he snapped. "He's a _sorcerer_."

"You have no idea," Gwaine breathed. "You have no idea what he's done for you. Even now, you…"

"If you're going to be ridiculous, you can leave - " Arthur warned.

"His father was Balinor," Gwaine said.

Arthur stopped, then blinked in shock.

"The dragonlord," said Gwaine. "That was Merlin's father. And when he died, Merlin had to swallow that pain and pretend to you that everything was normal. Oh, and he's a dragonlord as well now. I saw the dragon, I met it. It's not dead. And it likes making fun of people."

Arthur started frowning in a bit more of a concerned manner. "I think you might need to go and lie down, Gwaine…" he started.

"You are not listening," Gwaine interrupted, feeling his anger take him over. "You never, ever listen, Arthur. I know what Merlin has done for you. I know everything he has done. So shut up and listen for once."

Arthur shut up, mostly out of shock. Gwaine took a deep breath and continued.

"He fell in love with a girl once. A shape shifter. She was killed by you and your men, and she died in Merlin's arms. And once again Merlin had to pretend there was nothing wrong. He watched your father execute his people over and over again for no reason but that they had magic, and yet whenever there came a time to save Uther, he took it. He even stopped you killing Uther once, when you found out the truth about your birth. Because he didn't want you to become the king in that way, because he didn't want you to kill your father and then regret it forever more. He cares about you, Arthur.

"He's done so many terrible things because he cares about you, Arthur. He couldn't help Morgana, especially in the beginning when she truly needed it, because he had to hide his secret so that he could protect you. He even had to betray his own kind - do you remember that time when Mordred was fatally injured, and when you had to decide between letting him die or letting magic reign once more in Camelot? _Merlin_ told you not to allow magic in Camelot, _Merlin_ turned you against it. Because he knew Mordred would turn against you, he had seen it in a vision. He had the choice between saving you and bringing magic back into the kingdom. And he chose you, Arthur. Like he always has."

He fell silent. Arthur was staring at him, his face completely white.

"If only I could show you," Gwaine added a little desperately, "How much he has _suffered_. All those times he has helped you and protected you. All those times he has been tortured, and broken, and alone. And all those times you've discounted him or forgotten him, Arthur, it just, it's…"

He trailed off. Arthur opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He looked lost and helpless, an uncommon look on him.

"And now you want to banish him," Gwaine finished. "Banish him for caring more about you than anyone ever has done or ever will do."

"He's a sorcerer," Arthur muttered, so quietly that Gwaine could barely hear him.

"Sorcerers are evil," Gwaine said.

"Yes."

"And Merlin is a sorcerer. So Merlin is evil."

Arthur looked stricken. "He…" he said. "No, he…"

"Well then," Gwaine concluded.

Arthur sat back. He looked like he was going to be sick.

Gwaine stood up, feeling suddenly weaker than he had since Camlann.

"I have never met," he said, "Anyone so alone, or so burdened, or so absolutely loving as Merlin. So please, Arthur, _please_ …do the right thing by him."

Arthur did not look at him. He stared down at Merlin and covered his mouth with his hand. Gwaine left him to it, and struggled back to bed.

* * *

"No more visits," Gaius said when Gwaine awoke next. He was measuring Gwaine's pulse in his wrist with a frown on his face.

"But - " said Gwaine.

"No buts," Gaius interrupted. "I've spoken with Gwen. You are far too weak to be anywhere but in bed."

Gwaine bristled. "I'm not _weak,_ " he said. He had never been weak. He had always been strong. Strength, he was strength…

"You've been brought back from the brink of death," Gaius retorted, sounding more annoyed than Gwaine had ever heard him before. "And you are seriously damaging your health by your exertions. No more."

"But Merlin - " Gwaine said.

"Merlin will be there when you have recovered," Gaius replied, not falling for the bait. "If you rest properly, it should not take you long. Percival and many others are almost back to full strength."

Gwaine felt himself start to panic. "He might not be there," he argued. "He might not be there at all, Gaius, you k-know that, p-please - "

"No," Gaius refused. "If I have to put a guard on your door, I will, Gwaine. If I have to sedate you, I will."

Gwaine stared hopelessly at Gaius, but Gaius would not look at him.

He fell back against the covers and gazed silently at the ceiling.

* * *

The next few days were spent either making failed attempts to get to Arthur's rooms (foiled by Gwen, Gaius or a combination of both) or lying helplessly in his bed, hating himself, hating his weakness.

Eventually another week had rolled around, and Merlin had been silent and cold and near death for a whole month.

When he woke one morning, he found a guard had finally been put outside his door, in the shape of Percival.

He struggled to sit up, ignoring the food left on the table for him. "Help, Percival," he demanded.

Percival shot him a look. "Back in the bed," he warned.

Gwaine grinned at him from under his hair. "Never," he said, and slipped out of the bed as quickly as possible. He stumbled, but felt stronger than he had in ages.

He reached out a hand to Percival. "Take me to Merlin, please," he said.

Percival stared at him. " _No,_ " he said. "For pity's sake, Gwaine, get back into the bed! Gaius is going to _murder_ me."

"Percival," Gwaine said.

Percival looked at him. Gwaine met his eyes, and let all the desperation pour through him. "Please," he begged.

Percival had never been able to resist a direct plea. He melted as quickly as ice in the sun.

* * *

Merlin was silent and pale in the bed, lying as he had before. Arthur was also asleep, slumped over the bed.

He was holding Merlin's hand.

It was this that made Gwaine stop where he was.

Arthur was holding Merlin's hand. He had never gone near Merlin before while he was lying in that bed, had certainly never touched him. And now both his hands were cupping one of Merlin's, as if he had fallen asleep trying to coax some warmth into it.

The window was open, and the afternoon sun was tumbling into the room along with a light breeze. It painted them both with a calm, mellow light. Arthur's hair glowed golden at the ends, Merlin's face seemed almost warm and relaxed. They slept in an oddly companionable silence, one that Gwaine was suddenly loathe to disturb.

"Let's go back," he said to Percival, and they left as silently as they had come.

* * *

Percival's crime was discovered by Gaius, and he was banished to other duties. The less easily swayed Leon stood in his place and refused to let Gwaine talk to him, let alone wheedle him into any action. Gwaine fretted for three more days.

On the fourth night he woke suddenly to find the guard post empty. He had been sleeping through the nights mostly, so Gaius must have found Leon something else to do in the intervening time.

He scrambled to his feet; he was tried but not exhausted, and this time he managed to make it all the way to the stairs before he had to stop for a rest. The climb took him a while, but he made it.

Arthur was there, but asleep in his chair, head tipped back and snoring loudly. Gwaine allowed him an amused smirk, then sat down and switched his attention to Merlin.

If he had been skeletal before, he was even more so now. The few candles around the bed lit his cheekbones in sharp relief, and his breathing was shallow, his chest fluttering nervously with each exhalation. When Gwaine took his hand, he knew that one squeeze could easily break every bone in it. Merlin's flesh was frighteningly cold.

He was dying, Gwaine realised, with a sharp horror. He was actually dying.

He took a deep breath, then spoke, as softly as he was able.

"You have to come back," he said. He glanced up at Arthur, but Arthur was still fast asleep. He shifted closer to Merlin, so close he could whisper in his ear.

"You have to come back," he repeated. "Please come back, Merlin."

Merlin did not move. Gwaine squeezed his hand as much as he dared. " _Please,_ " he begged.

Merlin's eyes remained closed. Gwaine breathed with him, then looked back at Arthur. "If not for me, then for him," he said. "You do everything for Arthur, Merlin. Do one more thing. Do this."

Merlin stayed still. Gwaine sighed and eyed Arthur, who was now making gurgling noises, his mouth open. "Even if he does snore like a warthog," he said, and grinned to himself.

There was nothing. Nothing in Merlin's face. Not a glimmer, not a twitch. Gwaine forced himself to his feet and shuffled out.

He reached the bottom of the steps before his energy and his spirit finally gave out. He gently folded to the floor, gripping the ends of his boots and drawing his knees up to his chin.

It was silent in the corridor, silent and dark, and there was no one to see him collapse into tears.

* * *

There was an enormous hammering on the door, so loud that it woke Gwaine with a jerk. He opened his eyes and looked out of the window. Dawn was just breaking outside.

The knocking started again. He closed his eyes.

 _He's dead,_ he thought, and his heart sank inside him.

"Gwaine!" said Arthur's voice on the other side of the door. "Gwaine, open up!"

Arthur didn't sound upset. He didn't sound broken-hearted. Not one bit.

Gwaine's eyes flew open.

"Please," he said aloud, then heaved himself out of bed, fumbling for the door handle.

He flung open the door. Arthur was standing there and he was smiling from ear to ear.

It was a smile of pure joy. It was the smile of a golden prince, a king. It was the smile of Arthur, it had every aspect of him inside it and it was blinding like the sun. For once brief moment Gwaine saw why Merlin followed him, and why Merlin loved him so much. That smile could turn sadness into happiness, death into life. It could do anything. And Merlin had turned his face to it like a flower towards the sunlight.

"Is he - " he said to Arthur, hardly daring to hope.

Arthur's grin widened impossibly. "Come on," he said.

* * *

Somewhere, Gwaine found the strength to almost run to Arthur's room, and his legs only buckled once he had reached the door. He staggered forward and pushed it open, his heart hammering inside him.

Merlin was lying in the bed, just as he had been, still pale and thin, but with one important difference. His eyes were open and as clear as crystals.

He smiled at Gwaine, a weak but absolutely jubilant smile. "Hello," he said.

Gwaine's vision blurred; he didn't know whether to sob or laugh, so he did both. He feel Arthur's hands steady his shoulders, and when he had blinked the sudden tears away, Merlin was holding a hand out to him in mute petition.

Somehow he found the strength to struggle to the bed and sit on his old chair and take Merlin's hand. It was still thin and breakable, but it was warm, and Merlin's pulse under his skin throbbed with life.

Gwaine buried his face in that hand, in grateful agony. He felt himself start to shake.

Merlin shushed him, weakly but sweetly. "It's all right," he said quietly. "Gwaine, it's all right."

Gwaine nodded silently, dashing away the tears from his eyes, and looked up at him.

Merlin smiled, the sort of smile that called dragons down from the skies and turned water into fire. "I'm back," he said.


	13. Celebrations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Gah. Hellava chapter. However, here it is at last, in all it's dubious glory. This is the PENULTIMATE chapter, the next one will be the LAST. Thank you so much for all your support thus far, and I hope you enjoy (and that this heals some of the wounds caused by That Finale). x

* * *

_Merlin shushed him, weakly but sweetly. "It's all right," he said quietly. "Gwaine, it's all right."_

_Gwaine nodded silently, dashing away the tears from his eyes, and looked up at him._

_Merlin smiled, the sort of smile that called dragons down from the skies and turned water into fire. "I'm back," he said._

* * *

Immediately, there was complete chaos in Camelot. Gaius dashed in with the speed of a man half his age and wrung Merlin's hand saying 'my boy, my boy' over and over again, with tears in his eyes. And then Gwen rushed in and threw her arms around Merlin, laughing with happiness, and Elyan came in and squeezed Merlin's hand with a great huge smile, and Leon cracked sweet jokes and made Merlin laugh, and Percival thwacked Merlin's shoulder so hard in his joy that Merlin let out a squeak of pain, and through it all Arthur stood on the sidelines and smiled so widely that Gwaine thought his head would fall off before long.

The bells were rung around the castle, the servants whispered it among themselves so that soon absolutely everyone knew that the sorcerer who had saved them all was awake, and alive, and perfectly all right.

Afterwards, there was a kind of dizzy pause, in which everyone went to get some rest and Arthur went to calm the hubbub of people in the castle courtyard. Merlin was pale with exhaustion, so Gwaine pressed a small kiss to his hand and said, "I'd better get back to bed."

Merlin smiled. "You look awful," he teased tiredly.

Gwaine grinned back. "No worse than you," he said, and kissed Merlin's hand again, and then he struggled back to his room and collapsed on his bed and fell asleep, and stayed asleep for three days running.

* * *

When he woke up, he felt almost back to normal again, if ravenously hungry. He was able to not only get out of bed, but got to the kitchens easily enough and allowed himself to be spoilt rotten by the head cook, who, despite her enmity with Gwaine in the past, seemed to have forgiven him everything in her relief that he was alive. So he feasted happily, feeling like a man who had been let off a death sentence. The world was alive again, and bright, and everything was well.

He bathed and dressed in clean clothes, and by the time he met Percival and some of the others in the kitchens later on, he was the old Gwaine again. He did not know how he had recovered so quickly all of a sudden, but he suspected most of it was down to Merlin. Either it was Merlin's magic still linking him with those he had saved in the battle, so that when he was recovered, they all were, or it was simply that his recovery meant Gwaine's worries had fallen away and he was relaxed for the first time in a long while.

The next day he went to see Merlin. Merlin also seemed to be improving in leaps and bounds; he was sitting up in Arthur's bed with a book in his hand, and there was more colour in his face. He was still too weak to walk, but he had a voracious appetite, according to the clearly relieved Gaius.

Arthur was away in a meeting with the more recovered of the knights, so they had the room to themselves. Merlin nibbled on grapes that Gwaine had brought and smiled at him. Gwaine wasn't sure if it was merely his relief or if something magical had happened, but it seemed like Merlin _glowed_ more than he had done before. Sometimes Gwaine could swear his skin shimmered in the morning light. It was as if he was no longer having to hide his magic anymore, so it was bubbling up to the surface where it belonged.

Halfway through admiring the healthy flush of colour in Merlin's cheeks, Gwaine found himself saying, "There's something I've forgotten to say."

Merlin blinked an enquiry at him, halfway through a grape.

Gwaine smiled. "I wanted to thank you," he said. "You brought me back to life."

Merlin surveyed him steadily. "As if I wouldn't if I could, Gwaine," he said.

Gwaine felt his chest warm with happiness. "You saved everyone," he mused. "Everyone, even the Saxons, even Mordred…even Morgana…"

Something flickered in Merlin's eyes. He nodded.

"Why?" prompted Gwaine.

Merlin hesitated, then sighed and put down the bowl of grapes on the bed. "Because I was tired of death," he said quietly. "Because I just wanted everyone to live, just once. I was so sick of death, Gwaine."

Gwaine couldn't stop himself leaning forward and trailing a careful finger up the pale inside of Merlin's arm. "I understand," he said softly.

There was a small silence. "Plus, I need to thank you as well," Merlin said finally.

Gwaine glanced up in surprise, and Merlin smiled. "Arthur's been nice to me," he said. "Far nicer than I expected him to be. I suspect that someone might have had a hand in this…"

Gwaine glowered. "He was being an idiot," he said. "I told him what I thought of him."

Merlin laughed. "I'm sure you did!" he said. Then he sobered again, almost immediately. "Well," he said, "It's certainly made things easier for us. So…thank you."

Gwaine smiled, though there was still a pang of jealousy there, behind his simple, instinctive joy at helping Merlin. "Any time," he only said. "As you know, Merlin."

* * *

By the time two weeks had passed, Merlin had resumed his health and was walking around the castle as if nothing had happened, though he still tired quickly. The castle, though, did not seem to agree with this - they did not treat Merlin the same. Half of his old allies treated him either with suspicion or fear, and some were downright angry that he had deceived them and made them seem foolish. He had not taken over his manservant duties, and no one seemed to expect him to either. He confessed to Gwaine during one of their long evening chats that when he had asked Arthur, Arthur had brushed off the question as lightly as if it were a question to do with his schedule for the day, or what he was wearing. Merlin was uncharacteristically shy and nervous around Arthur now that his secret was out - when before he had been so forthright - and had let the subject drop.

"Maybe he doesn't trust me," he said miserably to Gwaine, and picked at his bed sheets.

Gwaine watched Merlin, one hand propped up against his cheek. "You said things were getting easier," he said.

"Yes," Merlin agreed, "But that doesn't mean he trusts me anymore."

Gwaine did not know what to say to that. He had never treated Merlin any differently when he had learnt of his magic. It hadn't even occurred to him to do so. Merlin had always been Merlin to him.

He resolved to talk to Arthur himself, perhaps even shout at him again if need be, but before he could, Arthur took control of the situation himself.

* * *

It was a sunny morning when Gwaine was woken by Percival; he was informed that Arthur had commanded a great assembly be held in the courtyard of the castle, which everyone had to attend, great and small. Gwaine hurried out of bed and dressed with nervous speed.

The courtyard was crammed full of people, some of them nobles but most of them from the lower town or even beyond. The knights were ringed around the crowd, watching them, and Arthur was up on the balcony with Gwen, watching over them all as they murmured amongst themselves and continued filing in. Gwaine spotted Merlin standing with Gaius and carefully picked out his place so that the warlock was within Gwaine's eye range. He had an escalating fear that this assembly was going to be something to with him.

Just as Gwaine had settled near Merlin, Arthur's arms rose and silence filled the courtyard.

"People of Camelot," he announced, "I have called you all here today to give an important and essential proclamation. It is not one that I have decided on rashly or lightly. But I do believe that it is the right decision to make."

He faltered suddenly, a slight intake of breath. Gwaine, spiked with quick alarm, glanced over at Merlin. If Merlin had been pale before, he was even more so now, and he was staring up at Arthur with the same hunted look on his face that he had turned on Gwaine when Gwaine had first learnt of his secret.

He crossed his fingers behind his back.

Up on the balcony, Arthur wavered for a second longer, and then looked up, and there was a steely resolve in his eyes.

"As of today," he said, "And for as long as I shall reign…the ban on magic in Camelot is lifted."

A collective gasp, as sharp as a rip echoing in the air, ran around the crowd. Gwaine - and many others - turned to look at Merlin, but Merlin did not look at any of them. He had frozen in place, staring at Arthur wide-eyed.

Arthur spoke through the murmurs that followed, and they died down instantly. "As I have said before," he said, "I have not made this decision lightly. My father before me was of the belief that magic corrupts. He thought that magic turned its wielder to evil. But I have seen things, I have known…people…and I cannot agree with him. Magic is a tool, and like any tool it can be used for good or evil _depending on the person._ And so how can we sentence those for merely possessing magic? We cannot. Therefore, as long as they obey the edicts and laws of Camelot, as each citizen should do, those with magic are free to live, work and serve here for as long as they wish. Without impediment, or prejudice. I have made it law."

He clapped his hands, and instantly the crowd broke out of the spell of his words, muttering amongst each other. Gwaine looked at Merlin again, but then had to look away. The expression on Merlin's face was almost painful to look at; it was full of the wildest of hopes, and the sharpest of happinesses.

He stared up at Arthur, as if he believed he was dreaming and that looking away from him might cause the dream to end. And then, amongst all the murmuring, Arthur looked down and Gwaine saw the exact moment when he and Merlin locked gazes, because both expressions turned instantaneously gentle and devoted.

Merlin blinked himself out of it, and Gwaine saw a tear trickle down one pale cheek. And then he smiled, the brightest of smiles Gwaine had ever seen on his face, and started elbowing through the crowd towards the castle. Arthur up on the balcony turned quickly inside as well, and Gwaine, struck by a sudden urge to see what would happen next, followed hastily behind Merlin.

He was not quick enough though. By the time he had run up the steps and found the right corridor, the two were already standing with their arms flung around each other and their faces buried into each other shoulders in absolute, perfect silence.

There was no one else around and they did not know he was there. The sunlight streamed through the corridor, painting a long line up Merlin's cheek and tinting Arthur's hair golden, and the two of them were so tightly wrapped together, so still, that the dust motes around them were sparkling in the sunshine and settling on their shoulders. For years afterwards, Gwaine would hear about the legends of King Arthur and Merlin the sorcerer, but whenever he did, he would only ever think of them in that simplest of moments - just the two of them together, away from everyone else and more human than anyone would ever imagine.

After a moment, Merlin, who had his face unknowingly turned to Gwaine, shifted his face up to settle against Arthur's hair. His eyes were closed and tears were shining on his cheeks, but he was smiling with the sun and looked finally completely happy. His hands were splayed, one on Arthur's shoulder and one resting on his back, encompassing the king in his arms, who was now shaking and clinging to Merlin with all his might.

He looked like a man who finally had everything he wanted.

And the pain went through Gwaine sharper than anything else had done before.

* * *

The rest of the city celebrated. Gwaine heard from Percival and the other knights that the people had taken well to the proclamation - most of them had been angry with Uther's injustice and Arthur's continuation of it for a long time. A feast day had been announced and everywhere there were celebrations, in houses, in the streets, everywhere.

Gwaine was invited to many of them, but did not join any. He lay on his bed and stared up at his ceiling.

There were some things, he knew now, that were meant to be. And there were some things that were not.

His reverie was broken by a tumbling knock at the door, done by someone so clumsy that it could only ever be one person.

He lifted himself off the bed with effort, and opened the door. Merlin stood before him, flushed with happiness, his eyes blazing.

"Gwaine," he said breathlessly. " _Gwaine_ , he's made me _Court Sorcerer_."

Gwaine forgotten all his morbid thoughts instantly. " _What?_ " he squawked.

Merlin's hands flew in the air. He was giggling wildly. "I know - he just announced - Court Sorcerer - I'm going to be _Lord Merlin!_ "

Gwaine stared at Merlin.

Merlin stared back at him.

Gwaine threw back his head and laughed. "You are - !" he said, and collapsed into hysterics. Merlin laughed with him, and nodded, and laughed again, and Gwaine spluttered, "You are _fantastic!_ " and grabbed hold of Merlin, hoisting him off his feet in a huge hug.

Merlin flung his arms around Gwaine's neck, laughing in his ear, and they whirled around the room in a breathless, happy tumble until both of them felt dizzy and they had to pull away from each other.

They clung to one another, Merlin's hands holding tightly to Gwaine's shoulders like they had done the first time Gwaine had kissed him all those years ago, like they had always done. They were both grinning broadly.

"Gwaine," Merlin said, breathlessly and a little less hysterically if not less happily, "It's…I can't believe it's…"

"It's everything you deserve, Merlin," Gwaine beamed. "Absolutely everything."

" _Everyone_ has what they deserve!" Merlin laughed, letting go of Gwaine to whirl around the room giddily. "It's like some ridiculous folktale!"

Gwaine felt the lump in his throat return as he watched Merlin stumble around, his hands to his face, overwhelmed by his joy. Merlin the manservant, Merlin the warlock, Merlin the Court Sorcerer. His Merlin, but never _his_ Merlin.

"Yes," he said, but was unable to make himself sound as happy as Merlin. "They do."

* * *

Reports came to them, confused reports of meetings between Morgana, Mordred and the surviving Saxons who had not stayed in Camelot, and Merlin's formal title ceremony was pushed forward in response. Before either of them could catch their breath, Merlin was hustled off to be fitted for formal clothes and Gwaine found himself in the formal hall with the rest of the knights, nobles and Arthur, waiting for Merlin's entrance.

Eventually Merlin entered. He was dressed more smartly than Gwaine had ever seen before, in a navy silk tunic and black trousers, complete with a dark cloak trimmed with silver. Camelot's costumers had done well - he looked absolutely gorgeous.

However, he also looked terrified. He walked down the rows of people too hurriedly, his hands twisting in front of him, eyes resolutely on the floor, avoiding anyone's gaze. Gwaine suspected the sudden pomp had overwhelmed him a little, had made him properly realise the full extent of what his new title would mean.

Merlin reached the spot in front of Arthur, where he was meant to kneel, and plonked himself on his knees with all the grace of a dying swan. Gwaine bit the inside of his cheek and glanced up at Arthur. The king looked like he was using every bit of his self control not to roll his eyes.

Gwaine crossed his fingers underneath his cloak and prayed for Arthur to show mercy.

He did, of course he did. He was meant to stay on his feet and use Excalibur to confer on Merlin his new title, but instead he bent down. Merlin's hands were pressed his newly clad knees, but Arthur prised them off gently and curled his fingers around Merlin's.

Merlin, slowly and smoothly, as if he didn't realise he was doing it, raised his head, and Arthur trapped his gaze with his own. They both froze, trapped in a tableau, the Court Sorcerer kneeling before his King, their hands clasped, connecting them. The look on Arthur's face now was the look that had been on Merlin's face since the beginning - a tenderness, and an understanding of just how important the other person was. Merlin had always known it. Arthur was knowing it now.

They looked perfect together. They always had. They always would.

Gwaine was probably the only person who noticed the next bit, and only because he was looking so closely. But he could have sworn that Arthur, as he drew Merlin up after touching his shoulders with Excalibur, swapped glances with his new Court Sorcerer and mouthed _we can._

Gwaine remembered that time long ago, that moment before Arthur's coronation, when Merlin had calmed his jitters with a serene, "Of course you can. _We_ can."

Arthur had never forgotten either. All those times, all those events where he had ignored Merlin, or insulted him, or had been seen to discount him completely, and yet he had never forgotten those small words or the strength they had given him. Perhaps, deep down, he had always wished he could give Merlin the acknowledgement he deserved, somehow.

Gwaine watched as Merlin met Arthur's gaze and smiled, and mouthed the words back, _we can_. And then Arthur turned his head to the court and loudly proclaimed Merlin's new title to all, and Gwaine must have clapped, he must have smiled and shouted for joy with the rest of the knights, but afterwards he couldn't remember it at all.

* * *

They had a huge feast. Merlin, drunk on the excitement of actually sitting at the table rather than standing behind it and of eating the food rather than serving it, stuffed his face with unabashed joy. Arthur sat beside him and rolled his eyes at the knights occasionally, but there was such a grin on his face, it cancelled out any disapproval.

Merlin's eating was only interrupted by one thing, which was when Leon, who had gone to apparently converse with a messenger outside, hurried in and muttered a few words to them quietly.

Gwaine was watching and felt instantly nervous, forgetting what he was saying to Elyan and wrapping his fingers tightly around the stem of his goblet. But then Merlin smiled, deeply and broadly, and Arthur laughed in victory, and they grabbed each other's hands. And then, before Gwaine could speculate, Arthur stood, and the hall fell silent.

"We have just heard great news from the Saxons," Arthur announced. "Morgana and Mordred have dropped their claim to the throne of Camelot and have promised that they no longer present a threat to us. They have, instead, appealed for peace."

Gwaine felt his jaw drop. Around him people muttered, and then laughed, and then the hall burst into applause, spontaneous and ecstatic, and people threw their arms around family, friends, lovers and cried with relief. Up at the high table Merlin sat, grinning more widely than seemed physically possible, and for a moment his roving gaze caught Gwaine's.

Gwaine swallowed his feelings down and nodded at Merlin, a slow nod, a nod that he hoped would say how proud he was of Camelot's first Court Sorcerer, and how full his heart was with happiness for him.

From the look of Merlin's answering smile, the message was delivered.

* * *

After the dinner there was dancing, which Gwaine, no matter how well he could put up a front the rest of the time, could not find the energy to join. He stood on the sidelines and watched Gwen try and teach the ever abysmally clumsy Merlin some formal dance steps instead. They were too busy laughing to make a proper go of it for the most part, but he was learning some things.

At some point, Arthur appeared by Gwaine's side. They stood awkwardly together for a bit, sipping at their respective ales.

"I know why Morgana gave up," Gwaine said finally.

Arthur paused, but then said, "How then?"

Gwaine looked at him. "Merlin."

The look in Arthur's eyes said he had already worked this out, but Gwaine persevered. "Merlin gave them back their lives, which their own obsessions had led to them destroying. He returned life when he didn't need to at all. He gave them a second chance. They obviously decided to take it."

Arthur nodded along to whatever Gwaine had said. "It seems," he said, "There was still a shred of the old Morgana still left inside her."

"Even if there hadn't been," Gwaine stated, "Even if she had been evil through and through, Merlin would have brought her back anyway. Because that is who he is."

Arthur looked at Gwaine, and for the first time Gwaine felt he really got it, he really understood. "He is merciful," he said.

"And kind," added Gwaine. "And loving, so extremely loving."

There was a moment, a long moment, where Arthur and Gwaine stared at each other and suddenly they weren't king and knight, or loved and unloved, or winner and rival, but equals. Equals in everything.

Gwen's laughter broke the spell, and they both looked back to the dancers, where Merlin was doing spectacularly badly.

Arthur sighed. "I'd better rescue Guinevere from disaster," he said, and went onto the floor to sort it out.

He looked so naturally _in place_ with Gwen and Merlin, as he squeezed Gwen's arm and tormented Merlin lightly, that Gwaine felt he really couldn't watch anymore. He turned and sneaked out of the hall.

* * *

The rest of the castle was in darkness and silence. It was one of the very few times Gwaine had left a party while it was still going. He felt cut off, cut out of life, a shadow in a world full of the living. He no longer felt such a substantial part of Camelot.

He went to his room and undressed in darkness, then lay on his bed staring at the moon through his window and playing absent-mindedly with his necklace. He had done this many times in his life in Camelot. Sometimes Merlin had been there, curled up next to him, warm and burrowed in and occasionally murmuring things in his sleep. Sometimes Gwaine had been alone, but warm with thoughts of training or battle or his friendships with the knights and those of the lower town. Tonight it all felt faraway, stale, as if that had all happened to another person.

He needed…

He needed something else.

Quite by accident, his fingers fell onto Lot's ring.


	14. Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here it is! The final part! Done and dusted. Goodbye Gwaine. This was meant to be a 2 or 3 chapter fic, but my love for the character of Gwaine stretched it further than that, and I will be honestly sad to let it go now.
> 
> THANK YOU to everyone who has taken the time to like and comment on this. Your kindness has encouraged me and made me very happy :) so thank you for that. I hope this story gave you joy.
> 
> And now, without further ado...

 

_He needed something else._

_Quite by accident, his fingers fell onto Lot's ring._

* * *

 

Two weeks later, Gwaine was standing outside Arthur's door, wondering if he'd made the biggest mistake of his life so far. He had been in long correspondence with Ejber, the older lord of the group of Lot's nobles who had come to see him, and Ejber's letters had encouraged him. But now he was actually outside Arthur's door, all his courage seemed to have vanished.

But there was no going back now. There _could_ be no going back. There was barely anything to go back _to_. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

There was a pause and then Arthur's voice said, "Come."

Gwaine pushed open the door. Arthur was alone in his rooms - Gwaine knew he would be because he had hidden in the corridor until he had seen Merlin leave the rooms to ensure it. The king was currently frowning his way through some sort of complicated looking treaty. He glanced up and said, "Oh. Gwaine."

Gwaine bowed deeply. "Your highness," he said formally.

Arthur stalled slightly. "You're…being very polite." He frowned suspiciously, as if he suspected a trick was being played on him, which Gwaine would have taken personally if he hadn't been so nervous.

Instead, he straightened up, swallowed, then rushed straight into the matter as was his way. "My lord," he said. "I have come to ask permission to leave Camelot."

There was a short silence. "Leave?" Arthur echoed.

"Permanently, if all goes well," added Gwaine.

Arthur looked at Gwaine for a long time, but he was not a foolish man. "This is about Lot's kingdom," he said.

Gwaine nodded. "The kingdom is still in trouble," he said. "There is still strife about who should rule and the people are suffering as a result. I have spoken with Ejber and the other lords and they think that if I make my claim for the throne, I will have a high chance of winning it and securing peace to the kingdom. I wish to leave Camelot and claim my birth right, my liege."

Arthur was staring at Gwaine with a strange look on his face. "When do you wish to leave?" he asked.

"Soon," replied Gwaine, and then felt he should say more, that he should somehow explain his actions. He sighed and dropped the formality. "Camelot is at peace, Arthur," he said. "You have created a secure and fair kingdom. Now I feel I must do that for my people. And besides," he swallowed hard, "I'm not sure I'm really needed here anymore."

Arthur bit his lip but made no half-hearted protests against this. That was one of the things Gwaine had always liked about Arthur, that he would drop propriety for honesty.

"If you would like," he said slowly, "I would gladly lend you what you need - soldiers, weapons…"

"No, no," Gwaine interrupted, and waved it away. "I must do this without aid from anyone else. But I will add that if I do win the kingdom, I would gladly be allies with Camelot. If…I mean, if you would like."

Arthur paused, and then flashed Gwaine one of his smiles, his proud smile, which Gwaine had sometimes been on the receiving end of before, at the end of some struggle or battle or during training, but never to this extent. "Yes," Arthur said. "I would like that."

Gwaine bit the inside of his cheek with no small relief. "Right," he stuttered. "Good."

Arthur stood, assuming a suddenly more kingly stance. "Sir Gwaine," he said formally. "I release you from your duties in Camelot. You have my permission to leave."

Gwaine bowed again. "Thank you, sire."

"And I wish you," Arthur added. "The very best of luck."

Gwaine glanced up at Arthur. Arthur was smiling at him, and Gwaine was suddenly struck with the same sensation he had felt before, at Merlin's ceremonial feast. That idea that he and Arthur were _equals._ It was very strange, but it sort of…fitted.

"King Gwaine," Arthur said, grinning and abruptly losing his kingly attitude. "I can't imagine that. You'll drink all the taverns dry."

Gwaine laughed and straightened up. "I'll give it my best shot, certainly," he replied.

Arthur smiled again, but this time it wavered - he seemed to have finally thought of something. "Have you told Merlin about this?" he asked.

A lump suddenly swelled in Gwaine's throat; he forced it down. "No," he said.

"Please do, Gwaine," Arthur said.

Gwaine nodded, but he didn't mean it.

* * *

He didn't want to tell Merlin. He didn't want to tell anyone. They were all so _happy,_ that was the problem, so content with their lives and their fortune, and he didn't want to spoil it. He liked things how they were. He liked sitting in the taverns and listening to Leon's anecdotes, and laughing at Elyan's jokes, and watching Percival arm wrestle some poor sap. He loved the simplicity of their friendship, he didn't want to complicate it, he didn't want to add a layer of sadness to it, or that air of approaching departure.

He particularly didn't want to do that to Merlin. Merlin, who had been so troubled for so long, who had seen so much loss and experienced so much grief, and now was so content. Merlin, who had spent so much of his life having to feel pain and consequently hide it. Merlin, who was now Court Sorcerer and had a million projects going on and a whole people in Camelot to oversee and had never been busier or happier. How could Gwaine burst this joy?

He almost told him a few times; once, when they were all drunk at the tavern and laughing uproariously at one of Percival's jokes and Merlin was leaning his head against Gwaine's shoulder and giggling giddily into his chest, Gwaine _very_ almost said it. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but they vanished just as quickly. He didn't want to do it. So he slipped an arm around Merlin's shoulder instead and gave him a squeeze and revelled in the closeness and comfort.

Maybe, he thought, he should just vanish overnight.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt them so much if he did that.

* * *

Arthur let Gwaine keep his secret until about three days before he was about to leave, then clearly got fed up with him.

There was a hammering on Gwaine's bedroom door in the early evening; Gwaine was packing, which had taken him longer than it ever had in his life before - how had he managed to accrue so much _stuff_? - and simultaneously writing to Ejber, and the knocking jumped him. He moved to open the door but Merlin stepped through it before he could.

He watched Merlin look around, take in the room, view all the scattered objects and the bulging bags.

There was a very heavy silence.

"So Arthur was right," Merlin said at last. "You are leaving." His voice cracked on the words.

Gwaine swallowed hard. "Yes," he said.

"Right," said Merlin.

There was another long pause. Merlin's face was white, and his brows were drawn together as if he was in pain, but otherwise he looked totally calm.

Gwaine found himself trying to explain. "The situation in Lot's kingdom has got worse. The people are suffering and I can help them, Merlin."

Merlin nodded tightly, but said nothing. His hands were shaking just a little.

"Camelot has grown great," Gwaine carried on, just to say something. "It looks after it's people so well - _all_ it's people now, thanks to you. I want that for my kingdom. If I can be half the king Arthur is, I will be well pleased."

Merlin nodded again, and took a deep breath. "Were you even going to tell me?" he whispered.

Gwaine hesitated, then decided to be honest. "Probably not," he said.

Merlin flinched, like he'd been slapped. He blinked, eyes wet. "Right then," he mumbled, then turned on his heel and left the room.

The door slammed behind him. Gwaine sat heavily on his bed.

Suddenly he didn't want to go anywhere at all.

* * *

The tragic expressions he was greeted with when he entered the tavern told him it hadn't just been Merlin Arthur had blabbed to.

"Bloody man can't keep a secret," he murmured and approached the knights. They stared at him brokenly.

"Why didn't you _tell_ us?" Elyan whimpered.

Gwaine sighed and sat down with them. "I didn't want to make things sad," he said. It seemed a kind of flimsy excuse now that he thought about it. The knights clearly thought so too - they glared at him.

"You should have told us," said Percival, who, though he had never been a dangerous person in his life before, now seemed to be making up for lost time. Gwaine wilted under his fury.

"All right," he acquiesced, and held up his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kept it from you. But hey - " he smiled his most charming smile. "I've still got three more days. Let's get the drinks in."

He still got frosty looks, but they had melted a little.

"It's your round," muttered Leon.

Gwaine raised an eyebrow. "I'm leaving soon. You should treat me."

Percival leaned across the table. "You get the round," he said, "Or I'll go up to the innkeeper and tell him the customer with the biggest bar tab is going to be leaving Camelot soon and he'd better get his money quick. All right?"

Gwaine stared at Percival. "You are _unexpectedly_ evil," he told him.

Percival met his gaze stolidly. Gwaine scrambled off to get the ales in.

* * *

In the end, everyone found out. Gwen cried embarrassingly on him when he told her, and he suddenly became very busy with people from the lower town visiting him to give him their best wishes and hopes. The knights got over their betrayal and rallied around him, being just as they had been before the news, if a little sweeter to him. He was quickly and completely overwhelmed by the love that Camelot, and of all within her, felt for him. It felt like he was leaving home, and though he knew it was for the best, though he was looking forward to the challenges awaiting him, he still felt pangs of regret. Often this was when he said a last goodbye to a close friend, or was given a parting gift. One of the regrets, however, was over the money he lost paying his bar tab, which he eventually forced himself to do.

He did not see Merlin at all.

* * *

Arthur scrambled together a proper formal goodbye for him in the courtyard on his morning of leaving, with knights and nobles all positioned to see him go, and as a result Gwaine felt a little of the stage-fright Merlin had felt at his title ceremony and spent a long time hesitating in front of the huge double doors, unwilling to push through them and emerge into the courtyard.

He had just berated himself for being a coward and screwed up enough courage to put a hand on the door, when a voice called behind him, "Gwaine!"

He turned. Merlin was hurrying towards him. He let his hand fall back to his side.

"Oh," he said. "Hello."

Merlin reached him and they blinked at each other shyly, suddenly awkward. There was no one around and Gwaine could think of nothing to say.

"Uh," Merlin said at last. "This is for you." He held out an envelope to Gwaine.

Gwaine took it. "Thank you," he said more stiffly than he had meant to.

Merlin scratched the back of his head uncomfortably. "Just don't read it until you've left Camelot, will you?" he asked.

Gwaine forced a smile. "I won't." He leaned down to tuck it into his bag, desperately curious but curbing it as best he could. When he straightened up again, Merlin was watching him with that look he sometimes had, a sort of glazed look, as if he were looking into another place or another time, as if he were seeing into the future or the past or both.

"The People's King," he said at last, and came back into the present, and smiled. It had a little hint of sadness to it.

Gwaine nodded. "But always your knight, Merlin," he said.

That was obviously a bit too much for Merlin - his expression crumbled. But then, while Gwaine was opening his mouth to apologise, he reached up with one hand and tugged Gwaine down for a kiss.

The goodbye kiss was almost like their first kiss - gentle and unexpected. But it was also deeper, and sadder, and happier. It was everything they had felt and survived together, and it was still as sweet as that first time. Gwaine sank into the feeling, letting every sensation seep into him so that he would never forget it, Merlin's long fingers twining into his hair and stroking down his neck, Merlin's body warm and slight against his, Merlin's lips, his lips, his lips.

When Gwaine broke the kiss, the fingers on the back of his neck were trembling. He leaned forward and wrapped Merlin into a tight, all-encompassing hug. He could feel Merlin's cheek press against his, and it was wet.

He held Merlin together, until the shaking stopped, and even then he only let him go because he thought that if he hung on a second later, he would never let go at all.

Merlin scrubbed at his cheeks with his silk shirt sleeve, but he was smiling. Gwaine smiled too. "I'd better go and face the ravaging hoard," he said. He suddenly had all the courage to do it.

Merlin laughed, a little weakly. "All my luck will go with you," he said formally.

Gwaine smiled and clasped Merlin's shoulder, feeling the warmth under his hand one last time, and then he picked up his bag and pushed open the door.

A burst of applause greeted to him. He glanced behind him and Merlin was applauding too - laughing and crying a bit as well, but also applauding as hard as he could.

Gwaine flashed him his best and most rakish wink, then left in a swish of hair.

It was only when he had trotted through the castle gates that he let himself cry.

* * *

He waited until he had set up camp for the night, in a clearing by the border of Lot's kingdom surrounded only by stars, and then he succumbed to temptation and got Merlin's letter out of his bag. It was written quite neatly for Merlin, which hinted that this was perhaps not the first copy.

 _Gwaine,_ [it said]

_I love you._

_There. I said it. I love you. Of course I do, I would be a fool not to. You thought me important even before you knew my secret, and then when you found out, you still thought it. You never stopped appreciating me. You always thought me worthy. You loved me, right from the beginning. I do not think you know just how valuable this was to me, how it gave me hope in the darkest of times. How could I not love you after that?_

_Remember that small man on the bridge who we met at the Perilous Lands? He called you 'strength'. Well that is just what you are. You gave me strength. All the time. Every time. And I love you for it._

_I am not saying this to try and lure you back to Camelot. I understand why you left. It took a while, but I understand now. I think it is right. And I think you will be a marvellous king. And now you have a future and an adventure entirely apart from the rest of us, and I wish you the best of luck, I really do._

_Just…please come back to Camelot one day, won't you? Please come and see me. Merlin_

Gwaine read the letter over and over until his vision blurred and he could not longer read the words, and even then he stared at the first line until his tears started falling onto the paper and he had to put it aside and put his face in his hands.

There was silence. The stars watched him.

After a while, when he had pulled himself together, he dug out some ink and a pen and some spare paper and crafted a short reply.

_Merlin_

_Three years._

_Year one - Take back my kingdom._

_Year two - Save my kingdom._

_Year three - Alliance with Camelot. Visit Camelot. Visit you._

_Three years, Merlin._

_Gwaine_

He folded up the letter neatly; the lords of Lot's - no, _his_ \- kingdom were going to meet up with him at the border tomorrow and he would give his letter to a messenger to deliver back to Camelot then. Merlin's letter he read and re-read, then folded and gently tucked back into his bag. He knew it would be his most prized possession to date.

He lay back and watched the stars watching him, and his heart felt really, entirely warm for the first time in his life.

Merlin hadn't rejected Gwaine. He hadn't accepted him either. But he _had_ made him.

* * *

**3 years later…**

Merlin had been - to quote Arthur - 'insufferable for weeks'. He didn't think this was entirely fair, because everyone else, especially the knights, had been just as excitable as him, and he knew Arthur was as well. His face when Gwaine's letter came asking to delay the visit for a further week had been an absolute picture. But Arthur was Arthur, and he would never change in his attempts to look cool and uncaring. Not even Merlin could stamp that out of him.

Anyway, the point still stuck. He wasn't the only one who was excited.

Oh, but he _was_ excited though.

When the scout came to say Gwaine and his entourage were arriving, Merlin stood on the stone steps next to Arthur and fidgeted until Arthur nudged him. Then they heard the sound of horse's hooves and even _Arthur_ was fidgeting.

"So his plans are going well?" Merlin asked for something to say.

Arthur nodded. "Brilliantly. Our Gwaine is proving to be quite the king."

Merlin smiled. "Our Gwaine," he whispered to himself. Always 'our' Gwaine, he thought. No matter how far Gwaine went, he would always be Camelot's. He would belong to them as they did to him.

The sound of horses grew closer, and Merlin glanced up to find the entourage finally entering the courtyard.

Gwaine was heading them. He looked so different, more different than his grand horse, his bright silver crown or his dark ferny green cloak could explain. He seemed…taller, grander, _more._ He seemed _more_ as a king than he had ever been as a knight. And yet, bizarrely, Merlin was also reminded of the Gwaine he had met right at the beginning, in a tavern brawl all those years ago.

He was, Merlin realised with relief, still Gwaine.

Gwaine's eyes scanned the crowd fleetingly, and then met Merlin's.

He smiled. It was his old smile, always so irresistible to Merlin. It was the smile that promised excitement, and foolishness, and fun, but was also, impossibly, sweet, and caring, and full of more love than Merlin had ever been able to handle. It was Gwaine's smile that had always been Merlin's favourite part of him. It made Merlin want to do anything for him.

He smiled back, and stepped forward to welcome Gwaine home.

**The End**


End file.
